Gravity
by aetin
Summary: K/S. Beginning right after the movie, this story follows Kirk and Spock and their relationship from hate to love and through the hardships this brings.
1. Earth

**_Gravity_**

K/S

_This is a story about Kirk and Spock. Beginning directly after the movie, it follows them from hate all the way to love. _

_I've been writing K/S for a while now, but I usually start them some time after their meeting. One day I realised: it would be a challe__nge to start it out right after the movie, when they don't like each other. So sit back and enjoy, Kirk and Spock from hate - ambivalence - friendship - love. Warning you right now, this will be a LONG story. _

_This is a re-edited version. I noticed several mistakes in the old story, and when writing more of it, I also changed every chapter. Please enjoy!_

**Chapter One**

Jim was tired. Very tired. He thought that might be justified, given that he had just skipped a night of sleep to instead be injected with vaccines, to have severe allergic reactions to said vaccinations, to space jump down onto a giant drill, to fight a couple of Romulans on said drill – while suffering from the thin atmosphere -, to freefall without a chute, to fight with his acting Captain, get nerve pinched, walk ten kilometres in freezing snow and ice, to run another kilometre, a scary monster on his heels. He'd gotten a mind-whack from an old guy calling himself Spock, then gone off to do some more walking, then some running in Engineering when his companion was being sucked through the water coolant system, to pick a fight with that acting Captain again, and this time to get the shit kicked out of him and to nearly get strangled to death. Then it was off to the Narada, where he got to participate in an all-out gunfight. There was some _more_ running through the ship, and then getting beaten up (and being strangled _again_) by first Nero and then Ayel. More running, saving Pike, back to the ship, blowing up Nero, nearly getting sucked into a black hole and having to save themselves by detonating vital parts of the Enterprise.

So...yes. He was tired.

But there was no rest for the wicked, he was coming to realise. It took a few hours for the Enterprise to limp back to the nearest Starbase on impulse power alone. Following that, it was another couple of hours being towed back to Earth so that they could dock at the Space Station there. That time was spent in the Captain's chair, desperately fighting fatigue as the adrenaline began to wear off. There were things to do. Medical was full. Bones had practically screamed at him when he'd asked for a progress report some time ago. He hadn't called again. There were radiation leaks, breaches of hull in the lower decks. Starfleet needed to be called. That was a fun conversation.

Everyone else was slowing down as well. Everyone except Spock, who, when he had inquired, had informed him tartly that Vulcans required less sleep than humans, and so he was still quite easily within limits in terms of normal waking hours. Jim had just nodded and sent him on his way. He was trying not to antagonize Spock. There was a good chance that if the man hit him again, Jim would just pass out straight away, and that was no good. Not antagonizing Spock meant not talking to him, despite being curious about him after meeting his future self. That could wait until they were safely back on Earth, once Jim had been discharged and everything sorted out.

He huffed a quiet sigh of relief as they finally docked at the Space port. He announced to the entire crew what he had been told. Everyone was to exit the ship, beginning with all injured parties in the medical bay. They would be returned to Starfleet Academy and were instructed to tend to their own business ("get some sleep," was his suggestion) until they were contacted with more information. They could expect hearings and investigations for some time, while Starfleet tried to sort out this entire mess.

Before he signed off, he added something, knowing that this would be his last chance to be a Captain of a Starship. He had dreamed of being a Captain for the last three years of his life. More than dreamed...he had _lived _to be a Captain. He wasn't going to get the chance again, "I know we're damaged. I know people died, and that many more were hurt. I know we didn't save Vulcan, and I know that I'm not your real Captain." His voice echoed through the hallways of the Enterprise, and he felt the eyes of the bridge crew beginning to turn to him, "But no matter what anyone says to you, whether it's a civilian or a Starfleet official, you are all worthy of commendation. We didn't save everyone, but we saved Earth. We saved the Federation. You all did your best, and that's all any Captain could ask. Thank you, crew of the Enterprise," he paused, "Captain Kirk out."

He flicked off the intercom and stood, addressing the bridge crew who were all looking at him, "That goes for you lot as well. Now get off this ship."

He managed to stay awake through the process of removing the crew from the Enterprise. The Captain left the ship last. Spock stayed with him, although they did not talk. The Vulcan quietly kept everything running smoothly, directing people to the appropriate shuttles, making sure that all of them were fit for use and had not been damaged in battle. Jim stood there, arms behind his back, boots planted to the floor. He nodded to passing crewmembers – he didn't have much energy to do anything else.

Finally, "Captain," said Spock in his even voice. It took Jim a moment to remember that that meant him and turned to him. "We are leaving on the final shuttle," he said, gesturing slowly to the nearby entrance. Without a word, Jim made his way inside, ignoring the murmuring amongst the exhausted crew. As the Captain, he now sat at the front, and collapsed heavily into the first seat he saw, buckling up. Spock sat gracefully beside him. The only free seat left, Jim noticed. Oh well, nothing to be done about it. It wasn't like Spock was about to turn and break his neck. In fact, he had seemed downright friendly in the last couple of hours.

Anyway, he was too tired to worry about Spock.

In fact, as it turned out, he really _was_ too tired to worry about him, because he fell asleep somewhere between the space dock and hanger one back at Starfleet. He awoke to the harsh, tinny, automated voice of the shuttle telling him that arrival was estimated in five minutes. He looked around blearily, confused. Spock wasn't returning his gaze, staring placidly forward at nothing in particular.

Awkwardly, he shifted up in his seat, surreptitiously wiping his face in case he had drooled in his sleep (as he was wont to do). Spock didn't react, didn't even glance at him. They landed and disembarked, Jim only too happy to get away from the intensely quiet Vulcan. He was looking forward to some sleep. Sadly, that wasn't about to happen, as he and Spock were met in the hangar by a grim-looking man dressed in black.

"Cadet Kirk and Commander Spock, Admiral Bartlett requests your presence for an immediate de-briefing. Please come with me."

It wasn't unexpected. Of course the Admiralty would want to speak to them, to make sure that there weren't any imminent threats to the Federation. He hoped it wouldn't last long though, as he followed the Commander through hallways and across buildings. He was _tired_.

Jim sank gratefully into the chair in the Admiral's office, rather alarmed at how comfortable it was. It was going to be tough keeping his eyes open. Spock managed to sit in his chair in a curious mixture of grace and tension. It was bizarre, and made it totally impossible for Jim to decide whether he looked awkward or comfortable here in the office. Admiral Bartlett was looking at them, eyes focusing on Jim's face in slight alarm. Belatedly Jim realised that although he had cleaned the blood from his face, the bruises were probably setting in now. He tried to catalogue where the marks might be (_across the left eye, the right temple, his chin, his neck...._), and realised that Spock and the Admiral had already begun talking.

He was quite happy to let Spock do all the speaking, which he did, dispassionately. He spelled out the current situation, not elaborating much on the actual events of the last day or so. They all knew there would be plenty of hearings for that. Probably a good thing, since Jim didn't feel up to defending his terrible behaviour right at the moment. Defending yourself against charges of mutiny was something to be done _after_ you've slept a little bit. He nodded at appropriate places in the story, but all-in-all was probably more dead than alive at this point.

When, finally, they were done, Jim and Spock exited the office, standing in awkward silence for a moment. He looked at the Vulcan, who appeared typically passive, although Jim knew he was not. It only seemed right to say something before they parted. "Thank you," is all he could think of to say and he did so sincerely. Spock frowned ever so slightly. He wouldn't have even noticed if he hadn't been expecting it. Instead of giving him a chance to respond, Jim turned on his heel and marched away, hoping that he was at least heading in the general direction for his quarters.

He stumbled into his room, abruptly remembering that his roommate was dead when he looked at the divided space. His roommate's white sheeted bed stared at Jim from across the room, his personal items scattered across his desk, his dirty clothes in a heap at the foot of his bed. Jim wavered where he stood, nearly toppling over. He didn't. He took the six steps to his own bed, red duvet beckoning to him, and fell over forwards. His head hit the pillow and he knew no more.

The next time he was awake, it was when an insistent buzzing from his communication unit would not leave him alone. Groggily he cracked open an eye, feeling dirty and uncomfortable. He realised he had fallen asleep in all of his clothes, his feet still trapped in his boots. Rolling off his bed, he hit the floor with a thump, getting to his feet and staggering over to the comm. unit. He had hit "accept" before he had thought about his appearance, and so when Bones appeared on the screen, his eyebrows did something complicated before he practically shrieked, "Jim, what's wrong with you?! Why haven't you gone to Medical?!"

"I'm really tempted to just hang up and go back to bed," replied Jim, looking around for his clock. Apparently he'd been asleep for fourteen hours, but he sure didn't feel like it.

Bones snorted, "Yeah, well, you can't. You have to get up and get ready."

"What for?" he groaned, rubbing his face with the heel of his hand.

"You're coming out with me."

Going out with Bones meant finding a seedy bar, getting completely smashed, starting a fight (that was usually Jim), and then eventually splitting up when Bones passed out or Jim hooked up with a girl at the bar. Jim wasn't sure if he was up to that right now, but apparently Bones was set on the idea, and he wasn't getting out of it. Refusal could mean..._vaccinations._

So he threw himself under the shower, soaking in steaming hot water, revelling in the feeling of the drips rolling down off his shoulders, trailing down to his feet. He stayed in there until his door chime began buzzing frantically. Only one person it could be, so he wrapped himself in his big fluffy towel, shivering as his skin hit the cool air of his room. He let Bones in, and the man barely gave him a chance to say hello before he was shining a light in his eyes and fussing over the black bruising on his temple and chin.

"God damn it, Bones, I'm not even dressed, get off me!"

"Jim, you brought this on yourself! When will you learn that your health is important, damn it? If you don't visit the fucking med-bay, you're going to continue getting me barging into your room, shining lights into your eyes." He pushed Jim over to sit on his bed, gently feeling around his face and examining the injuries with the portable tri-corder, "Jim, you got a concussion from this hit here," he tapped his temple. Jim vaguely remembered being smashed in the face there by Ayel's phaser. Now that Bones mentioned it, it didn't surprise him to learn it had been a concussion. He had gone down pretty hard from that hit. He remembered struggling to think, confused, disoriented, frightened as Nero picked him up again and he _couldn't get away._

"You numbskull," Bones was saying, and he snapped out of it, "You know you're not supposed to just wander off and go to sleep with a concussion. I've lectured you on this one before."

"I like to keep you on your toes," he replied, trying not to look at the empty bed on the opposite side of the room. Paul should be sitting there on the bed, laughing at Jim being accosted by his best friend. He had always found Bones hilarious. But he was dead now. Jim wondered when his family would be by to take his personal possessions. When would he get a new roommate? Then he remembered that he was due to be dismissed any day now for mutiny, disobeying orders, putting people in danger. It was now just waiting for the axe to fall.

He wasn't sure what he was going to do once he got dismissed. He wasn't going to go back to Iowa, that was for damn sure. Maybe he should stay in San Francisco. He was already here, he knew people here, and he could just get a job somewhere in the city. But...then he'd have to be constantly reminded of the chance he blew, the life he had dreamed of. Bones was snapping his fingers in front of Jim's face, so he asked him, "What?"

"Stop zoning out. It's freaking me out – it's not a good combination with your head injuries. Jim, why didn't you go to Medical?"

"Didn't even think of it," he replied, and that was true, "Can I get dressed now?"

"Are you injured anywhere else?" demanded Bones, and damn it, Jim _was_ injured elsewhere, but he wasn't going to put up with this non-consensual examination here in his room while he was still naked from his shower. He wrapped his towel more tightly around himself, "No," he replied.

His friend didn't look convinced but waved him off, instructing him to get dressed. "And you promise me you'll go in for a check up ASAP?"

"Yeah, yeah," he yelled back from where his head was buried in his closet, looking through clothes. Eventually he settled on a black t-shirt and blue jeans, perfectly non-descript, as he really didn't want to be noticed today. If he had his way, he'd spend his day sleeping and hiding out here in his room. Obviously Bones was sent down by some sort of deity as a punishment for his misdeeds. He got dressed in the bathroom, and looked at his bruised and swollen face as he brushed his teeth. He really did look awful. Still, maybe some chicks would be impressed by his battle scars.

One can only hope that that was the only attention he'd get today, he told himself as he returned to the main room to face the music. Bones, ever interfering, had had the audacity to make his bed and was now sitting on it. He looked tired too, Jim noted. He probably didn't get any sleep until he was back on Earth either. More than likely, he had been dashing around trying to heal every patient single-handedly right up until he had been ordered out of the campus facilities. Unfortunately it meant that now that Bones had had sufficient resting time, he was going to be bothering Jim instead of some other, needier patient.

Oh well.

The bane of his existence stood when he saw him, gesturing him out the door and then closing it behind them. "Where are we going?" asked Jim, honestly too tired to care.

"You'll see," said Bones. He didn't sound as if he were hiding something exciting, merely like he couldn't be bothered to explain and that annoyed Jim. He didn't say anything though, opting instead to be silent, despite all the curious looks being sent his way as they walked through the halls. He was surprised when Bones stopped them at one of the mess halls, practically pushing him through the doors. He had been expecting a bar, not a cafeteria. "What time is it?" he asked Bones, suddenly confused.

"Nine," said Bones and abruptly Jim realised that it was nine in the morning and also that he was starving.

"When did you last eat?" demanded his doctor, scowling at his confused face.

"Uhh....I ate lunch with you after the Kobayashi Maru, remember? And you kept trying to get me to tell you how I managed to pass it?"

"What's wrong with you?" Bones threw him into a chair. His ribs protested that. "It's all, oh, I'll just get beaten until I can't move. Oh, maybe I just won't eat for 32 hours. Oh, perhaps I'll whine and complain while my best friend Leonard tries to make sure I don't kill myself!"

He stalked off towards where the food was. Jim didn't move, knew he'd get an earful if he got up and tried to get his own breakfast. Such was the life of a delinquent cadet with a doctor for a best friend. He sighed and rested his chin on his knuckles, trying to avoid the looks of the cadets nearby. He had the feeling that odd looks were probably going to be following him around for the next little while.

Jim jumped when a tray was slapped down on the table in front of him, orange juice sloshing out of the glass from the force of it. Orange juice and water stood in tall glasses beside a bowl of fruit, a bowl of cereal and a plate containing a thick stack of pancakes. Syrup was being waved in front of his face and he grabbed at it as Bones slumped into the seat opposite him. "When did you last eat, Bones? You can't lecture me on not eating. I seem to remember a certain doctor who would regularly forget his meals during exams."

Bones snorted and stirred cream into his coffee, then hunting for salt to put on his eggs, "Well, right now _I'm_ fussing over you. You just got the ever living shit smacked out of you. Eat your pancakes, Jim."

He smiled and did so, ignoring Bones whining at him about how too much syrup is unhealthy.

As it turned out, his first hearing was the next afternoon. It went pretty well. He just sat in a room facing a line of people and answered their questions. He gave his account of everything that had happened, hoping that he hadn't left anything out. All in all, it took several hours, and he was thankful when they finally dismissed him, wandering outside into the sunshine and fresh air. He sat on the grass, watching as the sky slowly changed from blue to pink.

"Kirk," said a voice and he jumped, looking up. Uhura stood some feet away, looking down at him with kind eyes, "What are you doing out here?"

"Just thinking," he said, shifting his legs and then gesturing up to the sky, "Watching the sun set."

"How poetic," she laughed, sitting down next to him, "Didn't know you had it in you."

Unable to resist, he shot back, "I've had plenty of stuff in me." Uhura made a disgusted face but didn't leave, relaxing into a smile and leaning back on the grass next to him.

"So," he said, after a few minutes of comfortable silence, "How are you doing?"

"_I'm_ alright," Uhura looked sad then, tilting her head so that her lovely long hair spilled over her shoulders, "It's quiet here now though. So many people are gone."

"Yeah," he agreed, thinking of Uhura's roommate, Gaila. She was gone. He had really liked her. She had been fun, had accepted him and made him feel wanted. She had said she loved him, something that didn't happen often in his life. In time, he thought, he could have loved her too. Now it was never going to happen. Such a waste.

"It's sad," said Uhura, "But it could have been worse. Would have been worse, if you hadn't snuck on board the Enterprise." She sent him a sideways look and he smiled in thanks, even if he didn't feel grateful.

A moment passed, "How's Spock?" he asked, almost without thinking.

"He's fine," sighed Uhura, "Almost too fine, if you know what I mean. Not that I've really had a chance to talk to him, he's been so busy."

"Well, we _are_ busy. I just got out of a ridiculously long hearing myself." He scrubbed a hand through his short blonde hair, "I'm sure you'll be getting called in to give your statement sooner or later."

"Already have," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice, "They called me in this morning. You'll be happy to know that I didn't say anything bad about you, Kirk. You may be a chauvinistic playboy hick, but you're not that bad." She smiled jokingly, but he wasn't really in a laughing sort of mood.

"As long as you told the truth," he said seriously, "I don't want you to get in trouble later if your story doesn't match up with everyone else's."

"Believe me, 'Captain', I speak nothing but the truth."

He snorted and stood up, offering her a hand, which she took, "It's Vulcans that can't lie, my dear communications officer. So," he pulled her to her feet. She managed to be as graceful as always, "you'd better hope your story matches his."

She smirked at him, which Jim supposed was her way of saying "don't worry about it, everything will be fine."

He ate quickly in the mess, unable to avoid the looks and whispering now that he was alone. In fact, several cadets decided to _approach_ him, thanking him and shaking his hand before skittering back to their tables to finish their meals. He practically bolted from the mess hall after the fourth time it happened. It was all very well to revel in attention when you knew you'd done something right and your other friends were surrounding you. Quite another thing when you'd committed mutiny and people you didn't know kept coming up to congratulate you when you were alone. Anyway, he was still really tired.

So he slept. The next morning he had another hearing, much shorter this time with more specific questions. As soon as he was done and stepped outside the much-too-grey room, Bones appeared. Jim suspected he used his magical Jim-sense, because how the doctor always knew when and where to accost him, he would never know. He had Sulu with him this time, and he smiled to see the Asian man. There was something about the shared experience of a suicide mission that brought people together. "Hey Sulu!" he greeted when he saw them.

"Kirk," grinned Sulu, "Done getting grilled?"

"For now," he replied and ignored Bones grumbling about being chopped liver or something, "What are you up to?"

"McCoy and I were just waiting for you."

"Any particular reason?" he fell into line with them, walking in the middle. As always, it felt a little badass to be walking in the middle of a line down a hallway. All they needed was some slow-mo and some epic music, and they'd be all set.

"Well, I don't know about the good Doctor here, but I wanted to tell you about a certain rumour I heard." Sulu looked too happy for this news to be any good. Jim's experience with rumours was that they were rarely true, and they _always_ spread around at the approximate pace of a wildfire. There was no use ever hoping that they wouldn't....because they would. He gestured for Sulu to go on with a wave of his hand and he did so, "It's about you," wow, _that_ was a shock, it wasn't like Jim had ever had a rumour spread about him before, "Apparently they're gonna give you the Enterprise."

"What?" he asked incredulously. Bones started laughing and he couldn't keep the amused grin off his own face.

Sulu leant over, lowering his voice, "I heard that they're going to promote you to Captain and give you the Enterprise."

"Yeah, right," laughed Jim, putting on a deep 'official-sounding' voice, "For the crime of mutiny, we hereby promote you up to Captain and give you our flagship." He rolled his eyes, "Because obviously _that's_ cause enough to skip me past Ensign, Lieutenant, Lieutenant-Commander and Commander and send me straight to Captain. Honestly, Sulu, I think I'm more likely to be discharged."

They were at the mess hall again, clearly part of Bones' sinister plan to keep an eye on what he was eating. The chances were good that he'd insist on getting Jim's food and then bring him something green and/or healthy. Well, at least he could complain to Sulu about it this time. They sat, and the Lieutenant smirked at him, "Would you care to bet on that?"

"You want me to bet on whether I'll be flash-promoted and given the Enterprise? Where did you even get this information from?"

"I have my sources," Sulu tapped the side of his nose, "So, is it a bet?"

"Yeah," smiled Jim, "Okay. 20 Credits."

"Done," laughed Sulu and shook his hand. That moment Jim's tray was slapped down in front of him and sadly, it did contain salad.

"I'm not your servant," grumbled Bones, "I can't believe you just sit down and expect me to get you food."

"If I tried, you would probably sedate me."

Bones grunted.

"Was that agreement?!" Jim asked in horror.

"No," said Bones, "But it does work better when I get your food, because then you don't get fat."

Jim pouted and Sulu laughed before going to get his own meal. The meal passed quickly, Sulu making for great company and Bones providing excellent teasing material. "You know, Sulu," when they all stood to leave, "When I get kicked out, I promise to stay in touch. You're a pretty cool dude."

"You'd better approve my request to stay on board the Enterprise permanently," replied the pilot. Jim remembered then that he had just been substituting for Helmsman McKenna during their mission to Vulcan.

"I promise, in the unlikely event that I become Captain, I will." Sulu mock-saluted him and then left, claiming that he had important things to do, and then denying it when Jim implied that he had important _people_ to do. Jim smiled, "He's a good guy."

"Worth freefalling straight into a planet in my opinion," replied Bones. Jim laughed, but his good mood didn't last long because Bones forced him to go to Medical for a check-up after that, and then proceeded to give him a lengthy lecture on how bruised ribs and stomachs are nothing to take lightly. Jim mostly ignored him.

The next week he was called to Captain Pike's office for a meeting. He showered, put on his uniform, noted with satisfaction that the swelling in his face was starting to go down, although the bruising was still pretty dark. He now looked as if he'd been in a fight the night before, rather than having been beaten around the face with a metal pole the night before. Which was a vast improvement, and very promising given that his pretty face was by far his greatest weapon. He ran his fingers through his still-damp hair and set off across campus in his tight red cadet uniform. He liked this uniform. He looked good in it.

Jim paused outside Captain Pike's door, hand raised to knock. He was suddenly unaccountably nervous. This could be it. They might be having Captain Pike tell him to get the fuck out of the service. It would make sense, as he'd be less likely to go ape-shit if it was someone he looked up to and respected. He knocked loudly, preferring the rap of his knuckles over the impersonal buzz of the doorbell. "Come in," came the reply immediately and he stepped through the sliding door. The room was old fashioned, large wooden desk in the middle of the room, a large bookcase to one side, a large glass cabinet filled with awards on the other. A window stretched behind Pike, who sat behind his desk in his wheelchair.

"Sit down," he offered, gesturing to the seat on the other side of the desk. Jim sank down into the red chair, which was hard and uncomfortable. Not like Admiral Bartlett's office, which he secretly thought was designed to lull people into a false sense of comfort. He'd been in Pike's office before, but he'd never felt so nervous. He'd never had anything to lose before.

Pike didn't look angry, at least. That was a good sign. "Jim," the older man put down the papers he had had clutched in his hands, "I'm going to cut right to the chase."

Wow. Not even a greeting or a poor attempt at small talk. This was it. Jim's stomach flopped, "Captain Pike. Before you say anything, I just want to thank you and apologize. Thank you for telling me to join Starfleet, for encouraging me to do something with my life. And apologize, for, you know. Committing mutiny."

There was a pause, and then Pike smiled at him gently, "It just so happens that committing mutiny saved all of us, which is why you're not being discharged."

"I'm not?" he didn't think he'd ever felt such relief before. A smile spread across Jim's face and he couldn't keep the excitement from his voice, "Thank you sir!"

"In fact, for your heroic efforts, Starfleet's decided to promote you," he paused and Jim practically glowed at the idea of becoming an officer, "You'll be given a commendation, of course, and then promoted," there was a lengthy pause as Pike dragged out the suspense, "To Captain."

Silence hung heavy in the room as Jim's mouth fell open in disbelief, "To...to Captain, sir?"

"Yes. Seems a certain former-Captain, now-Admiral recommended you as his replacement. And after collecting all the relevant information, it's been decided that you possess the necessary qualities to be a great Captain," he smiled, "Congratulations, Captain Kirk, you're going to be in charge of the Enterprise."

Well, looked like he owed Sulu twenty credits, "Thank you! I can't believe you recommended me as your replacement! Thank you sir!" he wrapped one of Pike's hands in both of his and shook it hard, beaming so much that he thought his face might break. The older man smiled slightly, obviously amused at his enthusiasm.

"Get out of here. Your ceremony's tomorrow morning at 0900."

Jim practically danced his way out and all the way to Bones' quarters, slamming his fist down on the buzzer and leaving it there until a rumpled doctor answered the door, "What the hell do you want? Stop smiling so hard, you're going to damage something."

"Bones, Sulu was right. I'm getting promoted to Captain! They're giving me the Enterprise!"

"Well, at least you'll stop sulking around," offered the doctor, standing aside to let him into the room. This was clearly his way of saying congratulations, "Now you can get back to being your attention-seeking, obnoxious self."

"Thanks Bones!" he said, flying into his room. It was a single, Bones being of sufficient rank that apparently he no longer had to put up with another person snoring seven feet from his head. He fell backwards onto his friend's neatly made bed, ignoring the grumbling complaints from the doctor, "I can't believe it."

"Neither can I," Bones honestly didn't sound like he believed it at all, "So, are we going out to celebrate tonight?"

"Of course! I'll buy you a drink!" exclaimed Jim, bouncing slightly and messing up the bedspread.

"Get off my bed. I have to sleep there, and you're contaminating it!" he said and then, "And I'll be buying you a drink, not the other way around."

Jim laughed and started rolling up and down his best friend's bed just to piss him off, and was rewarded by a huff and then a thinly veiled threat to his life.


	2. Medals, Awards and Commendations

**_Gravity_**

_Just want thank everybody who reviewed the last chapter. Every one of the reviews put a great big smile on my face and inspired me to write. Also a big thanks to everyone who added this fic to their favourites or alerts! I appreciate you guys too!_

_This chapter is a little short, but the next chapter should be longer, and will take place back aboard the Enterprise! _

**Chapter Two**

Jim was dreading the next thing on the to-do list. But it had to be done. It was just...he hadn't called his mother in almost a year. Had barely spoken to her before that except to tell her that he was enlisting and then again last year to keep her up to date ("I haven't died, been discharged or gotten anyone pregnant, mom"). But this felt like a pretty big deal, and she had probably heard of the whole Nero Incident on the news by now anyway. She probably figured, as he had, that he'd be crawling back home any day now, having been kicked out. Only he wasn't going to be doing that, he thought happily, grin on his face again as he punched in the number. Unfortunately, it wasn't his mother that picked up, it was Frank, and Jim felt his smile drop off his face as the man's face filled the screen.

"Is mom home?" he asked before Frank had an opportunity to say anything.

"Yeah," he said roughly, "Saw your face on the news."

"I'll bet you did. Now can you get Mom please?"

Begrudgingly he put Jim on hold, obviously going to find her. It took five full minutes of waiting for her to finally answer – were it not for the blinking "HOLD" written across the screen, he would have assumed that he had been hung up on. When she did, she looked weary, as if she'd been waiting for him to call with some bad news, "Hi Jim."

"Hey mom. Got some news for you," the smile was back, even though he could see Frank hovering there in the periphery of the screen, "I got promoted."

Her facial expression changed immediately, brightening, "So you're officially an officer now! My little Jimmy, an officer of the fleet! So, are you an Ensign? Or did they put you all the way up to Lieutenant for saving Earth?"

"Actually, I'm a Captain."

She didn't reply, her eyes perfectly round in shock. He smiled, feeling proud of himself, "Captain of Starfleet's flagship, the Enterprise."

There was another long bout of silence, and Jim felt his heart sink slightly as his mother's expression changed, "Don't try and kid me, Jim," she said, relaxing as she seemed to realise that he was joking, "So, when will you be home?"

He wasn't having any of this, "I don't have time to come home. I'm sure we'll be shipping out as soon as the Enterprise is repaired, and I've got a lot of administrative things to do before then."

"Jim, please don't do this," she sighed, looking sad. He felt anger flickering in his stomach.

"Mom, I'm Captain of the Enterprise. Believe what you like, I just thought I'd call you and tell you before you find out from the television. I guess I shouldn't have, huh?"

"I'm sorry, but you suddenly being promoted from Cadet right up to Captain with no field experience just seems a _little_ implausible. Not only that, but Captain of the Flagship? I'm not an idiot, Jim. I know you think I am, but I'm not. If you want a room at home here, you're always welcome, but don't call me and lie to me," there were tears in her eyes, he noted, and yes, maybe he'd been a fuck-up for most of his life, but did that mean she couldn't believe anything he said? When he called her with such an honest expression across his face, sincere pride and happiness, she couldn't believe that he might actually be telling the truth?

"I didn't believe it either, Mom. But there you go. Bones and I are gonna go celebrate now. I'll see you in five years, when the Enterprise gets back." He hung up, not wanting to hear any more of it. He knew he had been a terrible son. _He had._ Maybe it was just better if they didn't talk. She could have her life with that asshole Frank, and he could have his with his beautiful Starship. It would have been nice to have a little support, but he was sure that his promotion would be on the 6'o'clock news tomorrow anyway.

Standing, he stripped off his stiff academy uniform and started rummaging through his closet for something clean to wear. He didn't really have any sort of style in his civilian clothes, and so it was a relatively simple matter to pull out two random pieces of clothing and put them on. He was just struggling into a t-shirt that seemed a little too tight – had this shrunk in the dryer or something? – when his door buzzer went. Probably Bones, he thought, wandering over with his shirt still tangled around his head and shimmying into it as he hit the open button. "Bones, what are you bothering me about now, you just saw me twenty minutes ago!"

It wasn't Bones. It was Spock, who looked on impassively as Jim yanked down his shirt to cover his stomach, "Oh," he said, feeling a little like he'd had the rug pulled out from under him, "Hi Spock."

"Good afternoon, Cadet Kirk" replied the Vulcan coolly, "May I have a moment of your time?"

"Of course!" he stuttered, surprised, and gestured him inside. Spock stepped in, immediately looking out of place in the half-messy room. As much as it bothered Jim, he couldn't bring himself to clean Paul's side of the room, "Do you want to sit down?" he only had the one chair, over by his desk. Paul's had clothes stacked on it, and he wasn't touching those.

"No, thank you," said Spock, "This will not take long."

"Oh," he said, sinking down onto his bed, looking up at the Vulcan who was doing an impressive job of looking blankly tense. His spine was rigid but his face was impassive, features soft and expressionless.

"I have heard of your promotion," said Spock, "I wished to congratulate you."

"Why?" the word was out of Jim's mouth before he could stop it.

"I was under the impression that this was typical of human culture -- to congratulate one's peers when they have achieved something." Spock tilted his head ever so slightly, "As it was the result of a shared endeavour that you were promoted, I felt obligated to come and extend my congratulations."

"I wouldn't have been offended if you hadn't," Jim felt awkward around Spock, and it was safe to say that this was because he had provoked him into almost killing him, "I know we're not exactly friends." Spock's expression didn't change so Jim continued, "Look, I just want to apologize for my behaviour on the ship. It's just...I felt that what you were doing was wrong. I felt that if I didn't do everything I could, we were gonna die. Not just us...everyone on Earth. I couldn't let that happen. So I did what I thought I had to do. I'm sorry that I had to behave so horribly to you."

"Logical," said Spock, "The end results suggest that you took the correct course of action. And of course, if you believed that this was so, it made sense for you to act in whatever way necessary to ensure that it was taken."

That wasn't _"apology accepted," _noted Jim. That was _"I understand why you did it."_

"I shall try to attend your ceremony," said Spock, pulling Jim out of thought, "Although should I not be there, I would like for you to know that I expect you to take your post seriously and attempt to keep the Enterprise and its crew safe."

Jim smirked, "Worried about Uhura?" Spock didn't respond to that, so it was safe to say that that was true, "You know, if you apply to a position on the Enterprise, I'll definitely sign the papers. In fact," he leant forward, looking up at Spock seriously, "I'll make you first officer. I can't think of anyone better to have by my side."

"I appreciate the offer," he didn't sound appreciative, "But I shall not be applying for berth aboard the Enterprise, as I plan to resign from Starfleet."

Jim's heart dropped, "Why? Not because of me?"

"No, I would not resign due to a relationship with any particular Starfleet personnel, whether good or bad. I am resigning to help rebuild my race."

Oh, of course. His planet was gone. It was hard to remember that Vulcan had been destroyed. He remembered learning about it in second grade, the first aliens Earth had ever made contact with. It had been such a central part of the Federation. But still. "Spock, you shouldn't resign because you're expected to! You should do what you want to do!"

"I wish to resign," said Spock, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I don't think you do," Jim stood, "If you wanted to be with Vulcans, you never would have left your planet. I think being in Starfleet is exactly what you want to do. Don't resign just because you feel like you need to!"

Spock frowned, a tiny line appearing in the middle of his flawless forehead, "I do need to. My planet was destroyed. My people need my help."

"They didn't need you before!" He clapped a hand over his mouth as that slipped out. Spock's gaze darkened ever so slightly, "I mean, look. Spock, I'm sorry, but I can't help but feel that this isn't something you want to do. I really truly believe that you belong in Starfleet. I mean, obviously, it's none of my business, but--"

"No," interrupted Spock, "It is none of your business. Please stay out of it."

He turned and walked swiftly to the door, intercepted by Jim at the last second, "Spock. Do what's best for you, not what's best for everyone else. I'll be expecting you on the Enterprise on departure day. I'll save the First Officer position for you."

"That will not be necessary," began the Vulcan, but Jim just gave him his most steadfast look.

"I'll save it for you," he insisted as Spock nodded to him in farewell and stalked off down the hallway.

Jim spent the remainder of his afternoon reading up on the duties and responsibilities of Captains. He had difficulty keeping his mind off Spock, and his thoughts kept drifting to how he could convince Spock to join his crew. He wasn't even sure _why_ he wanted Spock on his team so badly, but he did. Maybe it was his impressive record. Maybe it was the fact that he had been one of Captain Pike's most trusted officers. Or maybe it was that old man he'd met on an ice planet a couple of days ago. He'd said they were friends. The greatest of friends. And Jim didn't think he was lying. Emotional transference was a side effect of the meld, after all. He had certainly felt the relief, the joy, the love that the older Spock had felt for him. It had streamed out through the meld, a beautiful mixture of emotion to juxtapose the unbelievable sorrow pouring into him.

He was broken out of thought by his door buzzer again, and stood, assuming it was his best friend, here to begin a night of getting shit-faced. In fact, it wasn't Bones (again), but Sulu and Scotty, the Asian holding out a hand with an eyebrow raised.

Jim laughed, "I guess I do owe you. How did you know anyway?"

"One thing you'll learn when I'm working on the Enterprise with you – I know everything," said Sulu, pocketing Jim's money when he handed it to him, "Everything about everyone. So I hear we're celebrating tonight?"

"That's why I'm here," explained Scotty with a shrug, "We're going to get you drunk off your arse."

"Not _too _drunk!" Jim protested, "I have a ceremony tomorrow morning."

"I'll fix you up before the ceremony," Bones had apparently arrived and was raring to go. Well, he was scowling, which meant raring-to-go in Bones-expressions, "Which bar are we going to?"

"Jim's choice," said Sulu, and Jim was sorely tempted to pick a gay bar or something, just to spite him, "I'm good with anywhere."

"Astrid's," decided Jim. It was always crowded and the booze was cheap, never mind that it was a bit dirty and the decor left something to be desired. No one seemed to have any objections though and they set off. It was a relatively uneventful walk over there, and the bar was, as expected, dirty and crowded. Bones "claimed" a booth by standing next to it looking scary until the previous patrons abandoned it. The other three men then proceeded to sit Jim there and methodically feed drinks to him, one after another until the whole room was spinning and the blonde felt like he was on top of the world, "I just got promoted to Captain!" he announced from his position standing on the table, and a rousing cheer went up among the other people in the bar.

Bones and Scotty began a drinking contest, which Jim watched with great enthusiasm, unable to decide for whom to cheer. So he cheered for both, much to Bones' annoyance and Scotty's delight. He wasn't sure who won, because he left half-way through, suddenly feeling a powerful urge to dance. Dancing went well. He found some lovely women to grind against. One of them had the greatest hips known to mankind, and he didn't want to take his hands off them, only he was still tired and sore from his intergalactic adventures. His ribs were screaming at him by the time he gave up and headed back to the table. When he got back, Sulu was chewing on chicken wings and offered him some, which he took and began to eat, only to realise that they were really fucking spicy.

The next thing he was aware of was being woken up rudely by some insistent buzzing at his door, and he realised that his clock said 0836. "Shit!" he yelled, tripping over about five different things on his way to the door. When he opened it, he was greeted by a hypospray to the neck, "Fuck! What, were you just holding that out, waiting for me to get in range?!"

"Yes," said Bones, storming into his room, "It'll stop you from being hung-over. Now get in the shower. You smell like stale booze and cheap perfume and you have a ceremony to get to. I've been buzzing for ten fucking minutes."

The complaining went on through the bathroom door for the entire five minutes it took Jim to have a sonic shower, brush his teeth and hair and put on deodorant. He was struggling into his cadet uniform when Bones apparently gave up waiting and decided to come in and help him. It resulted in his getting dressed taking even longer than it should have as he tried to swat the hands away. "Come on," insisted his friend, "Let's go, it's 0845!"

"Okay, okay!" protested Jim as he stumbled, trying to pull on his boots while hopping towards the door.

They were out the door and marching across campus at 0847, at the right building at 0855. Pausing outside the door, Bones turned to Jim, flattening his hair and checking him over. Jim half expected him to lick his thumb and then reach over to wipe a smudge from his face. He was such a mother hen that it was absurd. And then he shoved Jim through the door roughly and any loving thoughts the blonde might have been having about him left his mind.

Despite the morning rush, Jim was in his seat and looking prim and proper for the appointed time. Bones settled into his own seat in the first row of red-suited officers, right next to Sulu who had saved him the spot.

The ceremony itself went smoothly. He had very little to say, which was a good thing considering the fact that his brain still felt a little fuzzy from the quick and confusing awakening this morning. Thankfully he wasn't having an allergic reaction to whatever it was Bones had shot him with, which was just as well because he didn't need his best friend leaping out of his seat and tackling him during the middle of his promotion ceremony. He surreptitiously glanced about the auditorium, unable to see Spock anywhere. His heart sunk a little, but there was nothing to be done about it.

As it turned out, twenty minutes later as he stood outside, still laughing and shaking hands with people, there _had_ been a Spock in attendance. It just wasn't the one he had been expecting. The old man did not approach him, merely standing off to the side. It was strange, then, that Jim felt compelled to turn that way and see him. But turn, he did, and see, he did. So he excused himself from Chekov's grasp, leaving Bones to fall into the teenager's clutches, and crossed the grass to talk to him.

"Spock," he greeted, and the old man's eyes crinkled in a way that young Spock's certainly didn't.

"Jim," Spock began walking, clearly expecting Jim to follow him, which he did, falling into step neatly beside him. "Congratulations, Jim," he said, sounding proud.

"Your younger self congratulated me too, you know. Only he didn't seem so sincere about it," Jim snorted and Spock seemed amused.

"No, I do not imagine that he was," Spock was still graceful as an old man, Jim noted, "Do not worry, it will change with time."

"I doubt it. He said he's going to go 'help rebuild his race,' whatever the hell that means."

Spock looked at him with fondness in his eyes, and it made Jim warm to feel so honestly accepted, "I do not believe that he will. His place is in Starfleet. I will help rebuild our race."

"Sure _you_ don't want to be my first officer?"

"There is nothing I would rather be, but it is not my time. I have already had that chance. It is time for my younger counterpart to have that pleasure."

Jim smiled at him, "Thanks for the vote of confidence. Look, I hope I'll still be able to talk to you. There's no time-and-space-destroying rule about that, is there?"

"No," Spock sounded almost pleased at his inquiry, "There is not. I would be glad to receive communication from you."

They talked for a while longer, before Spock announced that he needed to depart for a shuttle leaving to the ship which would take him to the new planet they hoped to colonize. They stood facing each other, Jim trying to figure out how his counterpart would have said goodbye. In the end he carefully arranged his fingers into the Vulcan salute, holding it up and beginning the traditional farewell, "Live long and--"

He didn't get the end of it out because he was too surprised. Spock had stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Jim. His brain short-circuited and it took him a moment to realise that this was a _hug_. He returned the gesture, feeling inexplicably touched, even by this short contact. Spock was warmer than a human and smelled different, like foreign spices. Probably Vulcan food, he thought and smiled. He also felt a strange buzz when touching Spock, like a weak electric current coursing over his skin, but he didn't have the time to think about it now, because the embrace lasted only a second. "Good bye Spock," he said, when they stepped apart.

"For now," replied the old man, smiling ever so slightly at him. When he had gone, Jim turned on his heel and went to go and find the group who had been hanging around with him. There was some serious celebration and planning to be done.


	3. Set Sail

_Thanks again for all the reviews/favourites. Sorry about the last chapter being a bit of a filler! Luckily, we're in space now, so hopefully things will start rolling!_

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* * *

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Jim denied every application for first officer that he got, informing them all that the position had already been filled, even though it hadn't. Well, it had, in his mind. He was busy for the next few days, kept running around with formalities and kept busy with paperwork. Electronic paperwork. It was annoying. Unfortunately he could tell that it was just the tip of the iceberg – clearly paperwork was the brunt of the Captain's job. Still, it was worth it for all the other perks of the position.

He hadn't seen young Spock again since their fateful meeting at his quarters, but Sulu had informed him that he was still around the campus, so hopefully that meant he wasn't resigning. And apparently Sulu was always right, so he trusted in him. "Jim," Bones was saying one night while he was packing up all of his personal effects to move to the Enterprise. He was sitting in Paul's chair. His side of the room had been stripped bare the day before, a shock when Jim had walked through the door and seen the clothing, the trophies, everything gone. "Jim, you have to pick a first officer. Why don't you pick Sulu?"

"Sulu's a good guy, Bones, and he'd make a great first officer, but honestly, I want it to be Spock."

"I don't think Spock will be coming," Bones slurped his alcoholic drink noisily and Jim rolled his eyes.

"He will," Jim assured him.

And he did. The feeling Jim got when the turbolift opened to reveal Spock was indescribable, like the greatest victory imaginable, "Permission to come aboard?" he asked and of course it was granted, Jim rising from the chair, trying to contain the glee as Spock continued. "Should you desire, I can provide character references," he said and Jim nearly lost it. Who said Vulcans didn't have senses of humour?

"It would be my honour," he replied instead, ordering their immediate departure.

The first mission was, unsurprisingly, related to New Vulcan. It stood to reason that they'd be helping out the new colony, given that Vulcan had been an important and central part of the Federation. Their first mission was relatively simple. They were essentially acting as a cargo ship for some very important and valuable technology. The new planet for the Vulcan colony was suitable in many ways, but the terraforming equipment they carried would greatly assist them. They also had some experimental crops they were hoping would grow in the colony's unusual soil.

They didn't have much to do, besides the obvious directive of delivering the equipment safe from harm or damage. This meant Jim had to keep Scotty away from it at all costs, lest he attempt to "improve" the equipment. He enjoyed doing that, even when he had no idea what purpose the machine he was tinkering with had. Otherwise, it was a pretty good starter mission. Not too difficult, but with a definite purpose that he could work towards.

He started out his first shift quietly, observing how each person worked and what they were best at. Jim wasn't afraid to wander around the bridge, checking up on people and testing his memory, looking for names of crew members. After a couple of hours, he got stuck in on some important duties from his central post of his command chair. Important duties meant filling out forms.

As it turned out -- as he checked through the departure paperwork, a while later -- Spock had never been approved to be on this vessel. He had just hacked in and added his name to the list of personnel stationed there. That sneaky bastard. Jim couldn't keep the smirk off his face at the thought of Spock breaking rules so that he could be on the Enterprise. It was a great turn of events.

He fixed any problems by sending through his signature on Spock's file, making sure that this couldn't somehow come back to bite him in the rear. He also filled out the appropriate form to make Spock in First Officer, which he had to take to the Vulcan to get signed as well. He sauntered over holding the PADD and containing no small amount of smug pride, "Mr. Spock," he said when he was standing at his shoulder, "A moment of your time please."

"Of course, Captain," said Spock, turning in his chair and rising gracefully.

"You don't need to get up," offered Jim, waving his hand, "I always thought that standing when your commanding officer walks into a room is a bit of a waste of time." Spock sank back into his chair, looking at Jim dubiously. Well, if he looked more closely, Spock really _wasn't_ looking at him dubiously. There wasn't really an emotion on his face at all. Jim was going to have to learn to not project emotions onto Spock that just weren't there, "How're you settling in?" he decided to ask, even though he usually despised small-talk.

"Given that I held the Bridge Science Officer position prior to this voyage, I am having no difficulty with any tasks I have yet been assigned."

Not quite the answer he'd been looking for, but that was okay, "Still want to be my first officer?"

"Captain, as I have not informed you of any desire to retract my application, I fail to see why you may have doubts about this," Spock sounded bored. Like talking to Jim was tedious, and he couldn't have that. Scotty would never appreciate it if he let the Enterprise get boring.

"Well in that case, would you mind signing off on the official form?" he held out the PADD and Spock took it in long fingers, careful not to touch Jim's hands with his own. His eyes scanned the document, and apparently finding it satisfactory, there was a quick sweep of his hand and there was the signature. The Vulcan handed it back and Jim thanked him.

"Are there any other duties you require of me at this time, Captain?"

"No, no, your signature is all that was required. Carry on."

"Thank you, sir," said Spock, clearly just as a formality.

* * *

Jim entered his quarters for the first time that night. They were a moderate size – about the same as the room he had shared with Paul, only he was alone in these quarters. They were split into two areas. Near the entrance door was a small office area with a desk and a computer. Behind it was a divider and then the bedroom area, a wide, red sheeted bed filling most of it. He smiled to see the colour of the sheets, feeling at home already. In the center of the room was his single suitcase. He didn't have much with him, having brought nothing from Iowa to the Academy, and not having accumulated much besides some clothing.

He unpacked quickly, putting everything in its place and nodding in approval. Contrary to popular belief, Jim was actually very tidy. He hated having things out of place, because then you could never find them when you needed them, and that was just annoying! What was the point in that?

Plus it made the strewn clothes the-morning-after stand out against the otherwise pristine room. He liked that.

Falling asleep took a while. He lay on his back in his room, staring at the blank white ceiling. He was too hyped up to go to sleep. Here he was, Captain of the Enterprise, on his first mission. It was like all of his dreams had come true. Only, they had all come true at once and had been thrust at him. It was all a bit overwhelming. Hundreds of lives were under his command. Life or death, and it was all up to him. Eventually his exhaustion overtook him and he was asleep for the remainder of the night.

* * *

Bones seemed to be settling in well as Chief Medical Officer. They discussed it as they sat in Bones' office the next morning, sipping small amounts of whiskey. Bones had never believed in the not-drinking-before-noon rule. This was probably because half the time he just didn't go to sleep all night. Sadly the doctor was limiting his alcohol intake while on duty, so that meant Jim only got a quarter-glass too. "I'd also appreciate you not hitting on Nurse Chapel next time you come here."

"But she's gorgeous. And single."

"She's also your subordinate and my co-worker, so leave her alone. I'm warning you right now – and this goes for your entire career – I'm not helping you out if you get into any sexual harassment cases," Bones nodded decisively and drained the rest of his glass, fingers clearly itching to pour more. He didn't, which was just as well because Jim really didn't feel like lecturing him on being drunk while operating. Lecturing was more Bones' thing, and trying to encroach on that territory would just make any future lectures from him even worse.

"Fine, fine, no more hitting on Nurse Chapel. However, there is this one Lieutenant down in Engineering who is just," he made a gesture with his fingers, kissing into the air.

"Jim, you can't do anything with these girls. You're their Captain!"

"You know I don't care much for regulations in general, and I think that one's stupid," Jim huffed, "If it's between two consenting adults, who cares?"

"It's because you're their Captain and they might feel like they _have_ to consent." Bones leant back precariously in his chair, "They used to have a lot of problems with it back in early days of a co-gender military on Earth. It gets a bit fuzzy when people think they have to have sex with their superior officer or their career is going to be ruined."

Appalled, Jim's mouth fell open, "I'd never do that!"

"_I_ know you wouldn't. But not everyone knows you as well as I do, and honestly, it's a bad idea anyway. It's not like you can get away from them if they're crazy or something. This is a space ship. It's a contained area," the Doctor was giving him a serious look. Bones' serious looks always gave Jim the chills. They usually meant something was horribly wrong, or that he was about to get stabbed in the neck with a needle containing god-knows-what. "Just don't do it."

"But I like sex," whined Jim, ignoring Bones informing him that he didn't need to know anything more about this, "I'm going to go crazy if I don't get some."

"Should have thought of that before you saved Earth and got promoted."

Jim groaned. Bones laughed.

* * *

Scotty seemed to be fitting in fine in Engineering, although from the dirty looks some of the more senior engineers were giving him, it could be reasonably assumed that they didn't appreciate this genius coming in and telling them to rewire half of the consoles. Scotty took great pleasure in informing him of all the ways in which the Enterprise was lacking, going into great detail about silly nuances like the colour of the flashing lights that indicated that some oil for some machine needed changing. This wasn't very interesting, but he pretended to listen and care. In the end, that paid off, because Scotty took him on a tour of the Jeffries tubes, which felt a lot like being a kid in a play structure, crawling around through plastic tubes. Only, sadly, there were no ball-pits on the Enterprise.

Jim ate lunch with Scotty, who, unsurprisingly, was eating a sandwich, "So glad we have replicators here! Have you ever gone months without real food?"

"Yeah," answered Jim without thinking about it. When he noticed the curious look on Scotty's face, he grinned as if joking, "Yeah, that sucks." Whoops. Didn't really want to be elaborating on that one.

Scotty didn't look wholly convinced but continued munching his sandwich, chatting about more changes he was planning to make. "You think you could stabilize the Captain's chair then?" asked Jim eventually, enjoying his own BLT.

"What's wrong with it?"

"I spun around in it earlier and it felt wobbly. I want to be able to twirl in that thing as much as I like without fearing toppling over at any second. Can you imagine if the chair actually fell?"

"That image is enough to make me wanna loosen the screws, Cap'n," said Scotty, smirking, "But I suppose since you're my superior officer, I cannae refuse. Anyway, your screws are loose enough as it is."

Jim laughed and finished his food, unable to keep his eyes from the Asian girl hovering behind Scotty's shoulder, obviously waiting to talk to him. And he certainly wanted to talk to her – the girl was _fine_. When the chief engineer inevitably got called away for an "emergency" that was probably just that one of the dials on one of the consoles had gotten stuck, she shyly approached him, "Captain."

"Lieutenant Saito."

She smiled, all pretty white, straight teeth. Her hair was tied up, black silk spilling down her back, pulled smooth across the top of her head, "How are you today, sir?"

He shot her a cocky grin, "I'm well, thanks. And you? Hope Lieutenant-Commander Scott isn't working you too hard."

"He's great, actually. He's really funny," she batted her eyelashes at him, and god did he ever want to tap that.

Sadly, Spock apparently had different ideas because he interrupted five minutes later, just as he was starting the casually-getting-closer move, "Bridge to Captain," whistled the nearby console, the voice obviously Spock's.

"Yes, Mr. Spock?" he responded curtly, reluctantly leaving Lieutenant Saito and snapping on the response button.

"Captain, there is a message for you from Starfleet. I would suggest you return to the bridge in order to hear it."

He did so, stepping out onto the main bridge fewer than five minutes later. Spock vacated the chair immediately for him, and he sank into it, noticing that it was much warmer than usual, "What have you got for me, Lieutenant Uhura?"

"Replaying message, Captain," she replied levelly, and a man's face filled the screen.

He was much older than Jim, (not surprising, given that he was the youngest Captain in the fleet), with skin lined in wrinkles. He seemed humourless, as if his years in the Admiralty had sucked the soul right out of him, "Captain Kirk. When you have finished your mission to New Vulcan, you have a new assignment. Near New Vulcan is planet Yanar. They are a candidate to join the Federation. When you have delivered the terraforming equipment, proceed to Earth Colony Seventy-Six. Pick up Ambassador Grace, who will be leading the talks. You are expected to beam down with the Ambassador when you reach Yanar. The talks should be simple, as Yanar is a peaceful planet. You are expected to represent the Federation well and to provide protection for Ambassador Grace." The message ended shortly thereafter.

Jim frowned. The whole thing carried an air of, "don't you dare fuck this up. If you do, you'll be out of the fleet faster than Warp 10."

He supposed that was going to be the pervading theme for at least a while, considering the circumstances by which he got promoted, "Thanks, Uhura," he said, pressing his knuckles to his mouth in thought. "Sulu," he said shortly, "Estimated time 'til arrival at New Vulcan?"

"Seventeen hours, thirty-two minutes, sir."

"Thank you," he glanced at the chronometer. 1400. So they would arrive there at about 0630. He thrilled to think about successfully completing his first mission, even if that mission was only delivering a machine, and even if it only took two days. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, after all. "Spock," he said some minutes later.

"Yes, Captain?" came the immediate reply.

"I've never heard of planet Yanar before. Is there much information on it?" he spun in his chair so that he could see Spock. It wobbled slightly as he did so, and he remembered his request for Scotty to do something about it.

"There is not much, sir," said Spock dully, "It was only recently that they developed Warp Speed, therefore only recently have we been able to contact them without breaking the Prime Directive. They are a peaceful planet, but many of their deeper customs have yet to be studied. The Federation is interested in the planet for their advanced forms of medicine. Shall I transfer the files on Yanar to your terminal?"

"Yes please," Jim had hardly finished the first word before the files popped up right there, "Thank you, Commander Spock."

The remainder of the shift passed quickly, Jim reading everything he could find on the planet, determined not to make a fool out of himself on his first diplomatic mission.

He ate dinner with Bones in the mess, who had some choice words regarding the competency of some of his staff, "And the bloody moron grabbed the wrong vaccination. If it had been you we were injecting, you probably would have died. Sometimes I wonder where Starfleet gets these people. No matter. Kid seems bright enough. I'll have him reciting the ingredients of all of those vaccines soon enough. He thinks he had it bad in the Academy? Well, he hasn't even begun to experience McCoy teaching methods."

"I gotta admit, if I were being trained by you, I'd request a transfer ASAP. You're scary."

Bones' expression was very scary, although he probably would never admit it, "I am not. You just bring my wrath upon yourself by being a careless idiot."

"How am I a careless idiot?" Jim stuck a potato in his mouth, "I'll have you know that I got a hundred percent on my academy entrance exams."

Bones rolled his eyes. It was Jim's personal feeling that one day those eyes would fall out of his head altogether, from the sheer amount of movement they were subjected to. "I know that. You tell me that at least once a week. Doesn't stop you from being a complete idiot."

Jim pouted. It was an adorable expression. It really was. It just didn't work on Bones, because Bones had no soul. What a sad state of affairs. "Well, fine," he said, "then I will continue being afraid of you."

"You like it," scowled Bones. Jim scowled back. Sadly, it was true.

When they finally finished their food, they dumped their trays and made their way back to their quarters, stopping at Jim's first, "Oh Bones," he cooed as his door slid open behind him, "Thanks for dinner. I had such a lovely time," at Bones' darkening expression, he batted his eyelashes, "Did you want to come in?"

Bones flipped him the finger and stalked off, footsteps echoing in time to Jim's laughter.

* * *

They reached New Vulcan on schedule and the beam-down went without incident. Jim didn't say anything stupid, Spock didn't do anything crazy, and everything went well. Mostly. Jim didn't think Sarek left the ship with any kind of newfound love and respect for him, but that wasn't really a bad thing.

It began like this:

"Enterprise to Vulcan."

"Vulcan Space Center," came back the reply.

Jim smiled, "This is Captain James Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise," that flowed off the tongue nicely, Jim thought, "requesting co-ordinates to beam down equipment."

"One moment, please," there was a long pause and Jim began to drum his fingers on the arm of his chair. Spock was standing straight-backed beside him, and Jim distinctly noticed Spock's dark eyes watching his fingers, repetitively tapping across the shiny surface. He didn't stop, if only to annoy the Vulcan. Sadly he didn't react. How boring. Eventually the Vulcan Space Center replied, "Co-ordinates will be forwarded to your transporter room. Furthermore, there is a request from Ambassador Sarek."

Spock's eyes left Jim's fingers at that, and snapped up to face the view-screen where New Vulcan was slowly rotating below them. "Go ahead," said Jim.

"He requests to be beamed aboard for a short period of time. This would be for the purpose of conversing with Commander Spock on a matter of some importance. It would delay you not more than an hour."

Jim looked up at Spock, but the Vulcan had a starkly blank expression. "I would appreciate the opportunity to speak with Sarek, Captain."

"Of course," said Jim, and then addressed Vulcan, "That'll be fine. We'll beam him up and then beam down the equipment. If that's alright with you?"

"That is an acceptable course of action. Please proceed immediately."

They made their way down to the transporter room, where they encountered a gleeful Scotty.

"What're you so happy about, Mr. Scott?" asked Jim, feeling a smile slide onto his face in response to the Engineer's good mood.

Scotty was punching in commands at the transporter console with deft fingers, "In all the other ship experience I've had, ev'ry time you visit a new planet, it's a bloody hassle tryin' to beam summat down. Or up. They never give us proper co-ordinates. But the Vulcans seem to be tryin' to make life easier for us for once, an' have given me proper beam-up and down points." He seemed to finish what he was doing, and jabbed a thumb in the direction of the terra-forming equipment, which was on a floating skid over in the corner of the room. "Plus we'll finally be able to unload this inefficient piece o' crap. I still don't know why you wouldn't let me fix it up a little."

"I wouldn't let you fix it up because you know nothing about terra-forming equipment!" Jim laughed at him and leaned his hip against the console. Spock stood behind him. He was rather like a living statue, Jim thought. "If you want to fix up some sort of superior communicator, I'm all for that, but this is expensive equipment here that you know nothing about."

Jim rather got the impression then that Scotty was resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at him. "I know a lot more about it than you do, Cap'n."

"Oh, I might surprise you, Scotty," Jim grinned, "Beam up the Ambassador."

He did so, and the man appeared in a swirl of white light. The more he looked at him, the more he could see the strong family resemblance between Sarek and Spock. He had never seen Spock's mother, so he couldn't speak to what features of Spock looked like her. Sarek had the same long face, same mouth and nose. And of course, the same haircut. Why did Vulcans all cut their hair that way? Did they take a vote on it and decide that that was the most logical haircut or something?

"Good morning, Ambassador Sarek," he greeted in his best polite-voice.

"Captain Kirk," he replied, "I am appreciative of your accepting my request. Spock and I have certain matters to discuss."

And if people said that Vulcans were emotionless, that was a lie. Sarek had all the airs of a disapproving parent upset with their child for disobeying them. Jim had to suppress a smile. It was an expression he had seen many times in his life. Then he realised what Sarek was probably disapproving of, and he frowned. "You can use the conference room right across the hall," he offered instead of commenting on their familial situation, "We'll get right on transporting this equipment."

"We shall try not delay your departure," said Sarek, gliding out into the hallway, a sombre Spock trailing behind him.

Jim nodded, amused, "Sure thing," and then went back to the transporter room to 'supervise' while everyone else did the heavy lifting. One of the perks of being Captain was not having to do menial labour. Although he still seemed to get put to work for Scotty a few times a week. _Note to self_, he thought, _put Scotty in his place_.

That thought done, and supervisory duties done, there was nothing more to do besides wait for Spock. The minutes ticked by slowly as he leant against the wall in the hallway, staring at the door to the conference room as if it would make Sarek and Spock's 'discussion' progress faster. Sarek and Spock were funny names. Was it some kind of rule that Vulcan names all started with 'S', finished with 'K' and were five letters long? He wracked his brain trying to think of other Vulcan names he had heard in the past. None came to mind. He didn't exactly know any other Vulcans. So it was plausible.

But then there had been six billion Vulcans. How many possible names could there be? He thought for a moment, stretching his mind back to basic math class in high school. Well, if the first and the last letter had to stay the same, there would be three variable letters and twenty-six possible choices. So there would be 17,576 combinations. But then that would allow for completely nonsensical names like "Ssqgk". So really that was too complicated to work out. Well, if he made sure there was a vowel included in there, that would both decrease the number of possible permutations and also raise the chances of the name making sense.

Jim was just about to start working that out (that's what he did when he was bored. He thought about nonsensical things) when the door to the conference hall slid open. He stood away from the wall and smiled brightly at them. They didn't return the expression, of course, but he wasn't expecting the darkening expressions on their faces. "All done?" he asked brightly.

"We are," said Sarek, "Spock has made his decision."

"Oh?" asked Jim, looking over at Spock with raised eyebrows.

"I am remaining in Starfleet," Spock clarified, sounding about as excited about the prospect as Jim was about eating shrimp. He didn't like eating shrimp. He was allergic to them.

Sarek didn't look happy. "Your loss is our gain," said Jim jokingly, and Spock's blank look turned into a glare. Whoops. Maybe not the best thing to say when someone has just refused to help their endangered species rebuilt in favour of gallivanting off with a bunch of humans to take part in dangerous missions of peril and excitement. Whatever. Too late to take it back now.

"Yes," said Sarek, with a pointed look at Spock, "Our loss."

There was an uncomfortable silence for several seconds, the three men standing in the hallway. The tension was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. James Kirk was more than willing to provide that knife, "So, thanks for your visit, Ambassador Sarek. You're always welcome here on the Enterprise."

"Thank you, Captain Kirk," he said as they re-entered the transporter room, "You and Spock are always welcome on Vulcan."

The emphasis he placed on his son's name made Jim's insides squirm uncomfortably. He knew how it felt to be pressured to do something you weren't sure you wanted to do. So he quickly shuffled Sarek back to the transporter and left with Spock as soon as possible.

"Good work, Spock," he said as they walked back to the bridge together. Their gait matched very well – apparently their steps were the same size.

"I appreciate your acknowledgment of my satisfactory performance," said Spock, not looking at him, "I am also relieved that thus far, your command seems to be acceptable."

"Uhhh," Jim wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not. It was probably best with Spock to just take everything he said at face value. That is, to say, he was saying Jim was doing okay, rather than insinuating that he had believed Jim would not be able to handle command, "Thank you, Mr. Spock."

A tilt of the head was the response as they entered the turbolift, "So, Spock. Your dad wants you to move to Vulcan, I guess?"

"He believes it would be the more logical course of action for me," said Spock, as if it were obvious. His tone of voice clearly stated that he still didn't like Jim. That really kind of sucked. Jim hoped they would be more tolerant of each other soon.

Jim didn't say anything more, unable to think of something else to say. How they were ever supposed to become the greatest of friends, he didn't know. They didn't seem to have anything in common, no basis to stand their relationship on. Maybe he should call the older Spock some time. Ask what it was they _did_ together. Well, they still had five years to get to know each other. He wasn't going to push it now.

The lift doors opened and they walked out into the bridge, bright lights of the consoles flashing in his eyes, momentarily blinding. Jim crossed the floor to settle into the chair, a place where he was beginning to feel more and more comfortable. Literally. The chair was comfy, "Sulu," the Asian turned to meet his eyes. He was smiling, in a good mood. Jim was abruptly very glad that he was on his crew, even if he had taken 20 credits of his money in that bet, "Plot a course for Earth Colony Seventy-Six, please."

"Already done, Captain," definitely a reason why he'd hired him.

"Alright, lay in, Warp Factor Four."

"Aye, sir," he said, deft fingers sliding over the buttons on the console.

* * *


	4. Unpleasantries

_Apologies for the long wait. Next chapter should be out soon. It's a lot more exciting so it gets written more quickly ;)_

_Once again, thanks to everyone for their reviews and faves. It really makes my day to get them, and I want you to know I appreciate every one of them! =) Hope you all enjoy Chapter 4._

_._

* * *

It took them a day and a half to reach the Colony. The day passed relatively quickly, Jim filling out paperwork and sleeping. The time might have sped by, but already it was boring. He was itching to get some action, whether of the line-of-duty variety, or the equally awesome on-the-nearest-flat-surface variety. Filling out paperwork was time-consuming, but not mental-facility-consuming. And a bored Jim was a crazy Jim, as every one of his teachers and his guardians had found out. You simply couldn't leave the boy bored. He _had_ to have something to do, or he would go insane and find something to do or destroy. Or, in his teenage years, some_one_ to do. Or destroy. Whichever.

He settled with spending his time spinning around in the chair and antagonizing Bones and Uhura, the former of whom was, as usual, very easy to antagonize. The latter of the two got irritated fast, but sadly didn't react in any hilarious way. She was just _mean_ to him. This seriously made it all the more boring. Jim wondered if perhaps antagonizing Spock might be more fun, but then that brought up the troubling possibility of violence and strangulation. Under certain circumstances, he enjoyed violence and strangulation, but right now he wasn't in the mood.

"Earth Colony Seventy-Six, this is Captain James Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise," he said, when they were finally in orbit.

"Reading you loud and clear," came a female voice, "This is Earth Colony Seventy-Six."

"Excellent," he replied, doing a spin in his chair for good measure. When he passed Spock's eye-line, he could see the Vulcan's disapproving look. Wait. Was it disapproving? Or was he just imagining that again? Probably imagining. Anyway, "We're here to pick up Ambassador Grace."

"Certainly sir, the Ambassador is standing by. We will send you the co-ordinates for beam-up."

Jim decided that she sounded like she was pretty. Pity he would never get to meet her. "Thank you, ma'am," he said in his most charming voice, "Your assistance is appreciated. Kirk out." He moved his hand and pushed another button on his chair arm, "Transporter room."

"Scott here."

"I'm on my way down. The Colony is sending co-ordinates to beam up the Ambassador. Input them and get ready."

"Yes, Cap'n," came back the reply and Jim stood.

"Come along now, Spock. Sulu, you have the conn," he said with amusement, gratified to see the Vulcan rise gracefully out of his chair to follow him into the turbolift. He realised then that he had probably sounded condescending to Spock there. He looked at Uhura as they walked past. Judging by the look on her face, yeah, he had sounded condescending. When they stood in the turbolift, he glanced over at Spock, but his face was completely blank as usual. "So, Spock, how's it going?"

Spock's expression didn't change, "I am well."

Jim tried again, "No complaints?"

"Nothing worth mentioning, sir," said Spock, in a tone of voice implying that his complaints lay mainly with the Captain.

Jim frowned, but didn't say anything more, because the turbolift doors opened then and they stepped out. Walking down the hall, he realised that Spock was matching his speed, walking slightly behind him on his left. They swept into the transporter room only moments later, Scotty looking up as they burst rather impressively into the space. "Hey Scotty," greeted Jim with a smile. Spock nodded politely.

"Hey Cap'n. Ready to beam up whenever you are."

Jim purposely paused a couple of seconds to give a dramatic effect, and then with great inflection in his voice, he boomed, "Energize!"

Scotty did, clearly amused. The transporter pad changed colours, locking down, and two figures began to swirl into view. It was difficult to tell at first, but it was soon obvious that one was a man, and the other, a woman, both in elaborate dress. Ambassador Grace and her bodyguard, perhaps? No, his clothing was too elaborate for that. He might be her consort or husband perhaps.

Jim pushed his thoughts to the side as they fully materialized. "Ambassador!" he welcomed, looking at the woman with the patented Jim Kirk Charming Smile #4 on his face. Sadly it fell from his face only a moment later when, instead of the quite lovely woman, the man answered. His voice was flat, annoyed.

"Captain Kirk." He stepped down from the transporter, the woman hanging back meekly behind him, "I am Ambassador Grace. Michael Grace, as you do not seem to be aware of to whom exactly you are speaking."

Jim's eyes flickered over to regard the irate man. He was an average looking sort of guy, brown hair and strong jaw. Perhaps an inch shorter than Jim was, and a few pounds heavier. He seemed annoyed, so Jim switched to Charming Smile #2, "Ambassador Grace, my apologies. I am Captain Kirk, and this is Commander Spock, my first officer and Lieutenant-Commander Scott, my chief Engineer. Welcome to the Enterprise."

"I know all that," replied the official, stepping down from the transporter room. The woman remained where she was, eyes lowered demurely to the floor, "Don't waste my time with things I already know. I, for one, take the time to learn something about the people I will be meeting for business purposes," _Ouch_, thought Jim, "I had hoped that my initial assumption about you would be wrong, Captain Kirk. It wasn't."

"Once again, I am deeply sorry, sir. We were not provided with any files on you personally, and I find it distasteful to look up things about people that I'm not provided with."

He bit his tongue, wincing at the awkward phrasing of his words.

"Better get over that aversion, Captain Kirk," said the man, "In this line of business, you're going to want to know everything about the people with whom you deal. Certainly you'll want to know their _genders._"

Jim smiled sheepishly, but the deep scowl remained on the Ambassador's face, so he tried to switch attention off himself, "Perhaps you could introduce me to your beautiful lady friend here? Your wife perhaps?" he punctuated the end of his sentence with a wink.

The wink was usually a sure fire win with....everyone. But apparently not Ambassador Grace, who still looked as unhappy as ever, "She is my assistant. Please refrain from making such insinuations." The man then turned stern eyes on Spock, who hadn't moved or spoken since they reached the transporter room, "I see you have brought the famous Commander Spock with you to greet me."

"Uh, yes," said Jim, unsure of how to respond to that. What did the man expect him to say?

"Ambassador," Spock said simply, inclining his head in greeting.

"I've heard a lot about the half-Vulcan in Starfleet. Good things, of course. Mr. Spock, perhaps you could show us to our rooms? We are quite exhausted from travel." Ambassador Grace waved a hand in the direction of his assistant, and the woman turned to pick up a suitcase that had materialised beside her when they had first beamed up. It was almost the same size as she was and Jim almost cringed as she heaved it into her arms.

"Of course, sir," Spock said and set off with the Ambassador in tow.

"Can I carry that for you, ma'am?" Jim asked the woman, who had yet to be named. She shook her head, pursing her small mouth into a tiny line and starting to drag the heavy bag down the corridor. He sent Scotty -- who had mercifully remained silent through his little 'conversation' with the Ambassador -- one last look. The man raised both of his eyebrows and grinned in amusement. Jim rolled his eyes in response, and then, frowning, he followed the procession through the hallways despite being patently uninvited. He didn't think he liked their guests much. Then again, you can't judge books by their covers, or by only reading the first three pages. He hadn't liked Spock (and in fact, still didn't like him), but apparently they were going to be the greatest of friends. So he had to keep reading. He'd just have to apply the same diligence to Ambassador Grace and....whatever her name was.

It didn't take long to reach the guest quarters at the quick pace his first officer set, and Jim tried to ignore the dirty look Grace was giving him as he and Spock stood outside their doors. "Ambassador, I just wanted to welcome you onto the ship again," began Jim, earnestly trying to make up his earlier mistake. He wanted to keep a good relationship with those with whom he had to work. Nothing could be worse than enemies having to join to go to peace talks with someone else. Perhaps they could at least be neutral with each other?

It was not to be, as the man interrupted him, "Save it, Captain Kirk."

Jim fell silent, the moment stretching awkwardly between them. He let it, hoping the Ambassador felt uncomfortable. Eventually, he ended the tension, "Well, I just wanted to let you know that our estimated time of arrival at Yanar is thirty-nine hours. If you need anything during your stay here, don't hesitate to ask any member of the crew."

"I won't," said Grace, and Jim had the feeling he meant that, "This includes yourself, does it?"

"Of course," said Jim diplomatically, although he had the distinct feeling that he would somehow be mysteriously absent whenever the Ambassador was requesting something. Well, he would try his best to be absent. On the bright side, he was the Captain, so he could just order a Yeoman to do whatever it was that needed doing. Or Spock. He could tell him that he wanted whatever-it-was done properly, so of course that meant Spock was the one who should be doing it!

_Excellent plan,_ he thought to himself. All you had to do to get Spock to do something was to convince him that he was the most logical person for the job.

"Anyway, we must take our leave now," said Jim, smiling. Grace's face remained lined with a scowl, "Important things to be done on the bridge. Good night!"

He barely waited for the returned farewell before he turned on his heel and marched back to the bridge, Spock silently trailing him. He was like a _shadow_, honestly. "Tired. Are they kidding?" he looked at Spock, sceptical look plastered clearly across his face, "All they did was beam up from their place of employment."

"They did not seem to like you," offered Spock.

A useless observation, of course, "He didn't seem to mind you," Jim replied, leaning against the wall of the turbolift, "Maybe I should put you in charge of them. Would that be alright?"

"I will accept whatever responsibilities you choose to assign to me," said Spock, unhelpfully. Jim tilted his head slightly to look at Spock, who was standing still in the quietly whirring turbolift. He always stood still, but there was something about his movements. He bore a resemblance to a coiled spring, like if the outside pressure on him were released, he would explode in movement. It was strange seeing such a slender body and knowing how much stronger the man was than himself. And boy, Jim _knew_ how much stronger he was. The turbolift opened, and as usual, Spock waited to allow him to exit first, which he did.

It was already second nature to saunter the few steps necessary to reach the Captain's chair, and to sink into it in what he privately liked to think was a sexy way. "Lieutenant Sulu," he said, "You've got the course already plotted to Yanar, I take it."

"Ensign Chekov did this one, sir."

The Russian half-turned his head, as if warily scoping out the Captain's reaction. He smiled broadly in encouragement. "I'm sure it's perfect. Lay it in, we're going to Yanar. Warp factor three."

"Yes, sir," Chekov and Sulu both chorused, and Jim smiled to hear it.

It was only an hour later that they all vacated the bridge for the change of shifts, Jim doing one more round to ensure that everyone was happy and where they belonged. He was quickly learning the names of his crew in this manner, and he hoped that it wouldn't take him more than a couple of weeks to learn all six hundred and fifty-four of them. That done, he meandered on down to the mess, quickly grabbing his food and locating where he wanted to sit. He slapped his tray down and sunk into his seat next to Sulu, who smiled, "Evening, sir."

Chekov was giving him a wide-eyed stare from across the table, which made Jim's smile brighten a few settings, "Hello officers. How are you this fine Beta cycle?"

"Great," said Sulu, big grin plastered all over his features, "Was just telling Chekov here about how our resident Vulcan and our resident Linguistics genius got together."

Jim's eyebrows shot up, and he leant towards the middle of the table, "Not that I'm encouraging gossip, since you know, we're all supposed to be professionals here, but I would like very much to hear this. It's something I've been wondering about since the passionate goodbye kisses right before we beamed over to the Narada."

"Oh, I see how it is," Scotty appeared out of nowhere and clattered noisily into the seat next to Chekov, "About to share info about our superior..." he looked at Jim, "Well, about our _fellow_ officers, and you don't even include me! I'm the one that told you about the farewell snogging, Sulu! Have a bit of respect!"

"Yes, sir," said Sulu, because of course, Scotty out-ranked him.

"Is this really appropriate?" asked Chekov, eyes darting around nervously. Probably prudent to keep an eye out for Spock, Jim thought. If he caught them gossiping, there would be hell to pay. The teenager then lowered his voice to a stage whisper, clearly addressing only Scotty and Sulu, "And the Captain is right here!"

"But you love gossip!" exclaimed Scotty, and Chekov's face began to redden, "You're always the one bothering us to share what we know."

"Not while the Captain is here," said Chekov, looking quite like he wished he could sink into the floor. Jim just thought his accent was too adorable for words.

"It's alright, Chekov, you can speak freely to me when we're off-duty. After all, I'm just another person, and if you can talk to Scotty, you can certainly talk to me. We're closer in age than you and he are!"

"Y-Yes, sir," stammered the teenager, "it's just that a lot of the gossip revolves around you, sir."

Scotty and Sulu scowled at him while Jim laughed, "I could have guessed that. I _am_ the most interesting person aboard, after all."

"I think you may need a treatment for that swollen head of yours," said Bones as he sat next to Jim, "I have several hyposprays back in my office that might do the trick."

The Captain grinned at their slowly-filling table, "All right! Now that Bones is here, it's a party!"This was said with no small amount of irony, given that when Bones was not drunk, he tended to be a bit of a buzz kill. It wasn't so great hanging out with other people when Bones was constantly going on about how such-and-such could kill you and how you were an idiot (nevermind test scores that say otherwise) for not listening to him. But that's what best friends were for. Putting up with nagging.

"Shut up, Jim," said Bones, "So I understand there was some interesting information about to be shared here?"

"How did you know?" asked Jim, eyebrows up again, "Is this a daily meeting or something?"

"Close enough," Bones grunted, sounding unenthusiastic even though Jim knew he was probably bursting at the seams wanting to know what Sulu was sharing.

"Anyway," said Sulu in a conspiratorial voice, "You know he was one of her teachers at the academy, right? I heard it started while he was still teaching. She went to go ask him about Vulcan syntax or something of the like. Of course he gave her some pointers. He was such a big help that she went back again. They started seeing each other more often for Vulcan lessons and then bam!" he clapped his hands loudly and Chekov jumped, "hot and steamy affair. Of course, they had to keep it secret! He was still her teacher after all!"

There was a collective "ooh" from the people seated around the table. Except Jim, who was too busy eating.

"That's not very exciting," remarked Jim through a mouthful of his sandwich, "I was expecting something scandalous. I mean, who _hasn't _fucked a teacher?"

His answer came in the silence and wide-eyed stares of his table mates.

"Oh. I guess none of you have," he said and then buried his mouth in his sandwich. There was a few seconds of awkward silence, which Jim ignored in favour of stuffing his face. Eventually Chekov spoke up.

"It _is_ scandalous, sir," he helpfully informed him, the scandal as clear in his voice as his thick accent, "he was her teacher! This is like a conflict of the interests. In Russia, something like this would never happen!"

"I can't believe you said that, Captain!" said Sulu, obviously still caught up on his silly little comment about fucking teachers. It's not like it was a big deal or anything, "I hope you know that the whole ship is going to know that by tomorrow morning."

Jim groaned. Bones laughed at him. Well, he smirked at him. Same thing.

* * *

Captain Kirk had gotten used to the fact that the universe hated him by now. It was just a fact of life that he had to accept. What he _couldn't_ accept, however, was when _people_ hated him. _Especially_ when he hadn't really done anything to provoke them. Maybe Spock's dislike was warranted...he _had_ defied him at every turn while he was Captain and failed to save his planet and then insulted him and his dead mother. That might be cause enough for dislike. And at least Spock was trying to be cordial to him. But Ambassador Grace was just being a dick.

Unfortunately, Jim wasn't in a position to do much about it. He'd only just started as Captain and couldn't afford to be pissing off dignitaries already. That was for later, when he had a chest full of medals.

"Captain Kirk," he was saying, in a voice that Jim was already beginning to despise hearing, "I must insist you provide me with more appropriate quarters."

"What's wrong with them?" Jim asked, afraid of the answer.

"The bed is grossly undersized, and much too firm. The decor also leaves much to be desired. The walls are grey. The floor is grey. There is no window or view hole. You think this is suitable for a person of my position?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Jim said, trying hard to reach up and wipe the spit off his cheek, which had gotten there courtesy of his irate guest, "This is a scientific and war vessel. It is simply not equipped for luxury."

"Find a way to equip it, Captain! I expect to be treated well, and this is not good enough. Give me your quarters if you have to." This time, Jim immediately reached up to remove the saliva now decorating his face.

"I think you'll find that my quarters are even less well equipped than your guest quarters. Have a look if you want, but I guarantee, you'll find nothing there that differs from your current living space, with the exception of my personal effects."

"I think you'll find, Captain," said Ambassador Grace, leaning in close enough that Jim could feel his warm breath on his face. It was wholly unpleasant, "That I am a man you want to keep happy. First dignitary to ride on your control of the Enterprise. Don't want to screw this one up, do you?"

Ambassador Grace scowled at him as if to emphasize his point. The more Jim looked at him, the uglier he seemed. "If you'll excuse me," he said after several seconds of a staring show-down, turning on his heel to continue walking down the hallway to his quarters. Once there, he locked the door, sighing in frustration and stripping off all of his clothes. Naked, he stalked to his bathroom, practically throwing himself under the shower and then heading straight to bed. He didn't bother dressing.

This turned out to be a bad idea, because the next morning, when his door rang, he stumbled out of bed and had to hunt down his pants as the person buzzed again. He had just managed to get them on when it rang a third time, "I'm coming!" he yelled, even though the rooms were soundproofed, so that was pointless. He got the button done up and pressed the button, only to come face-to-face with the always immaculate Uhura. "Oh, hey," he said, suddenly feeling self-conscious as her eyes traveled from his bare feet up to his very-mussed sleep hair. Her look might have lingered on his bare stomach muscles, but he wouldn't bet money on it.

"Good morning, Captain," she said, and he stepped back to allow her in. She passed him, eyes roaming the clean room. He absentmindedly tried to flatten his hair, which was sticking up in unruly patterns all over his head, "I'm surprised you weren't awake already."

"It's only 0645, Uhura," he said in disbelief.

"Hmmm," she said, "Anyway, I came to ask if you know where Spock is."

Jim scratched his stomach with one hand and rubbed his jaw with the palm of the other, "No, I was asleep. I have no idea where he might be."

"Can you check on the computer?" she asked him, looking concerned.

"You can't?" he crossed the room to start rummaging for a shirt. There was no need to potentially piss his first officer off further by spending time half-naked in his room with the other man's girlfriend. He seemed to remember learning something about Vulcans being possessive creatures. Or was that just rumour? ...Or was it just some kind of porn that he had read?

Anyway it was probably better to be dressed if he were in the same room as Uhura. At least while she was still dating Spock. She'd be welcome to come back if she ever wasn't dating him though, and they could be as clothing-less as they pleased!

"You know that I don't have the authorization to do that unless we're on alert," she told him bluntly.

"Right," he had forgotten that, "There is a reason for that rule, though. Not sure I should be keeping tabs on your boyfriend for you Lieutenant."

"Just look it up," she ordered. Jim wasn't going to lie, it was just a tiny bit hot when she ordered him around. So he looked up Spock's location. It was in Science lab #9, most likely in his office, which was a small room connected to the lab.

"Don't tell him I looked this up for you," Jim told Uhura, who nodded. She had a determined look set on her face and he wondered what was going on, "I don't suppose you're going to tell me what this man hunt is about?"

"No," she said and marched towards the door.

"I don't believe I've dismissed you yet, Lieutenant," he said, smirking. She gave him a glare that could melt steel, but Jim was made of stronger stuff and stood his ground. A brief stare-down ensued, before Jim got bored and waved a hand flippantly, "Fine, fine. But no upsetting Spock before Alpha shift. I don't want to have to deal with him being pissy the entire time he's on the bridge."

"Spock doesn't get pissy," she started, "He's a Vulcan."

"He may be half-Vulcan, but that doesn't mean he doesn't get pissy," Jim told her seriously, "I don't want to put up with that shit, you hear me? Now, go give him some TLC and maybe we'll have a nice, relaxed Spock today." At her look of offended disbelief, he laughed, "I'm kidding, of course. Spock never relaxes," he threw himself into the chair by his computer terminal, "Now run along Lieutenant. See you on the bridge in one hour and fifteen."

She really was the master of dirty looks. Jim wondered if perhaps he should feel less turned on by that than he actually was.


	5. Yanar

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That took a little longer than expected. That pesky "real life" got in the way.

_Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. We finally have some extended conversation between Kirk and Spock and get going on our first real mission. =) _

_Once again, I appreciate every review I've gotten so far. 60 reviews! Wow, thank you!_

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After Uhura left, he didn't think he could sleep again. It just wasn't in him to go back to sleep after becoming fully awake already. Not being used to getting up _quite_ so early, Jim took his time getting ready for work. He even brushed his hair and put cream in his coffee, things that seemed superfluous when you had only ten minutes to get ready for a shift on the bridge.

Coffee with cream in it was really quite delicious, he decided. In a wholly good mood, he danced through the hallways, bursting in on Gamma shift an entire forty-five minutes early. Surprised, Lieutenant Patterson stood from the chair, saluting him. "Good morning!" Jim beamed to everyone. The tired faces seemed to perk up a little at his enthusiasm, "I hope you all had a good night!"

"Yes, sir," said Patterson, practically beaming. Jim liked Patterson, knew him from his flight training. He was a kindly looking man, with a soft round face and dark hair. He probably wasn't ever going to command a ship, but he made for a fine Gamma-shift lieutenant.

"Good job, Lieutenant," he told him sincerely, and made a round of the bridge, trying to keep the skip in his step to a minimum. _Why_ he was in such a mood was a mystery really. Something about having some time to get ready for the day, perhaps? Or it could have been that delicious coffee. Or perhaps it was just one of those inexplicable good moods he was sometimes prone to. Any way it happened, he reasoned, it was a good thing.

As such, he cheerfully greeted Spock when he stepped onto the bridge at 0732, a full twenty-eight minutes early for his shift. Spock didn't look surprised to see Jim there, as his facial expression didn't change at all, but Jim knew he was. It was confirmed a second later when Spock opened his mouth to respond to the "Good morning, Mr Spock!" which had been gleefully thrown at him upon entrance.

"Captain, you are unusually early to your shift," he said, and Jim was considering renaming him 'Captain Obvious,' because Spock's observations were usually just statements that even a blind person could see. He didn't suggest the name though, both because it would make Spock bitchier than normal, and also because Jim was the Captain, not Spock.

"Yup," he answered instead, not planning on revealing that it was Uhura who woke him up this morning, "So are you!"

"I am always the first of Alpha shift to arrive," as if it were obvious, "As First Officer, I have additional duties to perform, quite apart from my Bridge work. As such, I usually attend to my shift on the Bridge earlier than most crew members," _including you,_ was implicit in his tone, "in order to facilitate the completion of these duties."

"Okay," said Jim, not willing to let the snarky tone in Spock's voice ruin his good mood, "Just remember, if you find you have too much work on your hands, you can always delegate."

It appeared he had touched a nerve, because Spock almost snapped, "I am effective enough to competently complete all my duties."

Oho, it appears his dear half-Vulcan _was_ pissy, despite his suggestion to Uhura. "I'm not saying it as a slight against you, Mr Spock, merely reminding you that the distribution of work load needs to be correct in order for the ship to operate at maximum efficiency. That's what these officers are trained for, and it would be illogical for you to take on a workload greater than necessary when their schedule is not filled. Understand me?" He frowned at Spock's stubbornly blank expression.

"Yes, sir," Spock said, and the guy_ really_ needed some work on keeping a neutral tone of voice if he wanted that to be as expressionless as his face. With short, efficient, clearly _pissy_ movements, Spock moved to his chair, the ensign sitting in it previously quickly vacating the spot. With a brief "Commander," she was gone, and Jim really couldn't blame her. Spock was scary. He'd be afraid of the man if he were his superior officer too. Wait. No. He'd already been Jim's superior officer and he hadn't been scared.

Scratch that.

If he was being honest with himself, a Spock-in-charge was a scary Spock. It's just that Jim Kirk got a kick out of scary things.

With a smirk, he sank into his chair, exchanging pleasantries with Lieutenant Patterson, who cheerfully described the magnetic readings they'd gotten off a comet during the night shift. He acted entirely as if that little exchange with Spock hadn't happened, for which Jim was very thankful. Eventually, he left, and the other Alpha crew came trickling in. Chekov was the next to arrive, shooting the Captain a nervous smile and hurrying past Spock as if he might turn around and bite him if he lingered near his station too long.

Uhura showed up next, pointedly avoiding looking at either Jim or Spock. Shortly thereafter, there was an influx of officers as everyone obviously headed up from the mess together. Jim mentally ran through the duty roster for the day. Sulu, Scotty and Bones were all on Beta shift today, though the latter would probably be in the sickbay by noon, due to being an excessive workaholic. No matter how he pressed and wheedled and tried, Bones was going to continue showing up to work four hours early and leaving six hours late. Perhaps Bones and Spock would make good friends, Jim mused as he read the files on Yanar again.

Perhaps not.

Bored, he found himself running through all the people Spock could be friends with. Scotty and Chekov were both certainly smart enough to keep up with Spock, but the former was too scatterbrained and flash-of-genius to appeal to Spock, and Chekov was probably too young and nervous. Spock wouldn't put up with nervous smiles and faint stutters for long.

The Vulcan would probably get along well with Sulu, he mused. Sulu was mature enough and was a genius about things he was interested in. Though perhaps their shared interests wouldn't be wide enough to facilitate prolonged interest in one another.

Try as he might, he couldn't think of anyone else (besides the obvious Uhura, and the supposedly imminent option of himself) whom Spock might like, and he huffed and resigned himself to dealing with a cranky Spock. Anyway, time to stop contemplating his First Officer's possible personal relationships and actually get back to work.

Amazingly, he got not a single call of complaint _from_ the Ambassador today, though he did get one from Bones right after the lunch break. About the Ambassador. But Bones was always complaining about _something_, so that didn't mean much. Plus it was lots of fun teasing him. It made the fact that the Ambassador had apparently gone to Bones, complaining that there was going to be something wrong with his stomach due to 'the trash he was being forced to eat on this ship,' very hilarious indeed.

Having Bones relate the story to him in an extremely agitated voice was funny, and Chekov and Lieutenant-Commander Webb -- who were sitting in front of him -- seemed to agree, chuckling along with him. On the contrary, the people behind him -- namely Spock and Uhura -- seemed to think it was decidedly un-funny, and proceeded to glare at the back of his head for about a thousand years. Perhaps he was exaggerating. Maybe it was more like three seconds, and more like a quick disapproving glance.

"And then, when I told him to get the hell out of my sickbay, he starts telling me to watch my mouth! I told him to watch his, or I'd sew it shut! He didn't seem to like that," no, Jim imagined he wouldn't, "so he starts yelling at me about my position, and how I'm goin' to lose it, and going on and on about how he'd report me, so I told him to go and fuck himself and that if he did it wrong, I wasn't gonna fix him up afterwards."

Bones had to stop the recounting of the story there for a little while, because Jim was laughing too hard to hear it.

"He left after that, and then his assistant had the _nerve_ to call my office and leave a message, saying that I could expect a court martial in the near future," Jim nearly started laughing again, but managed to hold it in, "I mean! Come on! Are you kiddin' me? A Court Marshall? Who the fuck does this guy think he is?"

"I dunno who he thinks he is, but I know who he thinks we are."

"He thinks the Enterprise is his bitch," spat Bones into the comm., "I'm not putting up with it, Jim."

"Of course not," said Jim reassuringly.

There was a pause, in which Jim could hear faint voices and then Bones yelling something, "Gotta run. One of Scott's poor ensigns has sliced into their hand rather than into a wire. I swear to fucking Christ, this happens at least one a day. It's ridiculous." And then the communication cut out, and Jim was left with his fantastic mood renewed. Should have known all it'd take to keep a great mood going was a bit of Bones agitation.

Ahh, good for the soul, it was.

//

Sadly, he ran into Ambassador Grace in the hallway again directly after shift, but he had Spock right next to him and a fist full of happiness and he wasn't going to let it bother him, "Good afternoon, Ambassador!" he chirped, and watched the suspicious look settle over the man's face.

"Captain," he greeted in return.

"I trust everything is going swimmingly," he said, not phrasing it as a question.

The Ambassador frowned slightly and his eyes made a quick diversion to Spock, "Well, actually, there was the matter of an altercation I had with the doctor earlier today."

"Oh yes, yes, I heard about that. Proper action will be taken, of course," Grace didn't look sure, and Jim couldn't blame him. The huge smile plastered on his face was probably enough to make anyone suspicious. "Don't worry, Ambassador! You're in good hands here aboard the Enterprise!"

And then he swept on his way, leaving the dumbfounded man in his wake.

When they reached the mess, he and Spock didn't split up, purely for convenience sake, due to the fact that they both had to line up for the replicators and because they were discussing ship's business anyway. When discussing neutral topics, they got along pretty well. Spock would deny it, but he tended to get rather short with people not intelligent enough to keep up with him, but Jim was certainly quick enough to provide sufficient comprehension. "Well, if you switch Ensign Rafferty to Engineering, that solves the problem."

"It then leaves a vacancy in tactics, for which I recommend Ensign Smith."

"I don't know him well," Jim said, picking up his tray. He glanced at Spock's tray sidelong, noting the plethora of vegetables. Vegetable soup, salad, and an apple, all washed down with a glass of water. Bones would love for him to eat that way, he thought with a smirk, looking down at his chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy. "So, Spock, what's with all the healthy stuff? You don't want even a little meat'n'potatoes?"

"Vulcans do not eat meat, Captain," Spock informed, as they sat at a table, "And potatoes have very little nutritional value."

"Oh, so you're a vegetarian. Or are you a vegan?"

"Vegetarian," specified Spock, "provided that the animal products which I eat were collected from said animals in a moral and ethical way."

"So, _could_ you eat meat, if you had to?"

"My gastro-intestinal system does not preclude it, but there is no reason for me to eat meat while sufficient nutrition is available in the form of plant life."

"I was a vegetarian for about three weeks once," Jim smiled at the memory, "I was fifteen and dating this girl who was like, a hardcore vegetarian. Every time I'd eat meat, she'd lecture me about it, so I stopped. Then I went to my Uncle Greg's barbeque, where the menu was pretty much just meat. Took one bite, remembered how good it was, and never went vegetarian again."

"Humans are fickle," Spock said, spooning soup into his mouth.

"They are when they're bending to someone else's desires," Jim paused to tear off a hunk of bread with his teeth, "Not when it's something _they_ want."

Spock seemed to be considering that, then, much to Jim's pleasure, he acquiesced, "Some humans have greater willpower than others, I have found."

There was a lengthy silence, "So, why do you think it's amoral for us to eat meat? Isn't that how evolution designed us? I know for humans, the first step in evolution towards becoming intelligent beings was the transition to eating meat. The increase in nutrients let our brains become bigger."

"You are not incorrect," said Spock, and Jim wondered why he had to say _'you're not wrong'_ rather than _'you're right'_, "But now that the Vulcan species has reached a sufficient level of evolution that we are able to ensure adequate nutrition without the destruction of life, we prefer to do so. In barbaric times, eating meat was the only way to be certain, but now that we can analyse foods, there is no need," he drank half his glass of water, "Furthermore, all life should be treated with respect. It does not matter that an animal might be much less intelligent than you; they are still a living being. There are likely to be beings out there in space who are as far advanced past us as we are past the chicken," he looked at the plate, "I can surmise that you do not wish to be eaten by them."

Interesting, Jim thought, swallowing a forkful of mashed potatoes, "I can respect that argument, but I have one query."

"Go ahead," Spock allowed.

"What is the argument against eating synthesized meat? This was never a live chicken; it is merely particles arranged in the same order as they would be in a piece of chicken. It is technically chicken, but it was never alive, so your argument against the destruction of life is irrelevant."

He was extraordinarily gratified to see Spock puzzling over the question. In the end, with a tilt of the head, he said, "Your argument has merit. I cannot fault you then for consuming meat created using the replicator. It is still my personal preference to continue eating only plant life."

"Fair enough," Jim smiled, feeling rather like he'd scored a point. He made a mental note to try to engage in friendly debates with Spock more often. "Anyway, so, before dinner, we were talking about Ensign Smith? Unfortunately, I don't know anything about him."

"Thankfully you appear to be aware of his gender," said Spock, and Jim snorted into his Coke, regretting it as the bubbles hit the back of his throat. Had that been a joke? Was Spock _making fun of him?_ Well, if it was a sense of humour showing there, it was gone almost immediately, chased down by a litany of facts about the young Ensign that Spock could apparently call out of memory.

Jim approved the requests in the end and went back to his quarters with a big smile on his face.

//

He started shift one hour early the next day. They would be in orbit at Yanar at 0900, and he wanted everyone to be ready. The landing party had been decided days ago, and consisted of Kirk, Spock, Uhura, Grace and two security officers. Jim knew Grace was probably going to bitch and moan about not having his assistant with him, but they had sent the list of visitors before they knew that she even existed. It wouldn't be fair to just suddenly bring another person, and be damned if he was leaving anyone else behind so that he could bring...whatever her name was.

"Good morning everyone," he said to the briefing room, noting that Grace had actually brought along his assistant to the meeting.

"Captain," responded Spock with a nod. Uhura followed suit.

He settled into his chair at the head of the oblong table and interlaced his fingers, pressing them down on the table. Spock, who had been looking at him, quickly averted his eyes. He didn't have time to ponder that, so he gestured to Grace, "Ambassador, I believe you had a little presentation to give us."

"Yes," said the Ambassador, and launched into a list of regulations that Jim mainly didn't listen to. He was sure that about 90% of them were about how important the Ambassador supposedly was and drifted into a very entertaining daydream about Bones' fight with him. Eventually Grace finished and Jim read his own notes, followed by Spock giving practically a minute-by-minute itinerary that was so long that by the end Jim couldn't remember a single thing from the list. Well, he could _vaguely_ remember the list, but a bit of hyperbole never hurt anyone when it was kept inside your own narration of your life.

When everything was done, it was 0837 and time to head on up to the bridge to keep an eye on the Planet approach. Everyone followed him, including, to his great distaste, Ambassador Grace. But it only made sense that he'd come along too, so Jim tried not to be too mad about it.

Everything went smoothly, and Lieutenant-Commander Mariam called down and got them permission to beam down, so it was off to the transporter room. Everything had been smooth sailing thus far and Jim hoped sincerely that it would stay that way. They made their way up onto the transporter pad, Scotty smiling and waving to them, and Bones telling him in no uncertain terms not to be killed, stabbed, poisoned, burned, shot, or gotten pregnant. He might have listed some other common ailments of landing party members, but Jim had shouted "Energize!" half-way through and had disappeared in a swirl of white light.

The city to which they beamed down was already in late afternoon, and the slanting lines of the white sun stretched their shadows across the ground. Turquoise coloured grass spread out beneath them, stretching until it met walls and buildings of white stone. They all blinked for a minute in the bright light, stunned slightly by the temperature and light differences. When Jim's vision finally cleared, he noticed the welcome party, about eight people. They were walking towards him with long, graceful strides, and the Enterprise party turned to greet them.

"Good day, Captain," said the man in the front when they were close enough. He was tall and slender, perhaps seven feet in height, and covered in a fine translucent skin. Jim could see the lines of veins beneath it, pulsing red and blue, and beneath that, lines of muscle and tendons stood out clearly. It was fascinating and strange, and scared Jim. He took the man's offered hand tentatively, shaking it gently, afraid to damage him.

"Greetings, Governor," Jim said, for that must be who it was, and smiled, and the man returned the expression.

"We have been studying your manners of greeting. The handshake is quite strange to us."

Jim laughed, "I appreciate the effort," he held both his hands out in front of him, palms facing the governor. The other man returned the gesture, touching their hands together, "this is more your style, isn't it?" Jim could practically feel Spock's disapproving stare on the back of his neck. He clearly didn't appreciate the Captain's casual tone of voice.

"It is," replied the governor, finding good humour in Jim, "We, too, appreciate the effort. I am Mihu. Let me introduce my accompaniment," he waved an elegant hand to his right, where an even taller man stood, "this is Holar, he is my second-in command. This," he gestured to his left, where there was a woman who dwarfed even Spock, the tallest member of the Enterprise away team, "is Kil, she is my wife. Behind us are the First Guard. They are my protectors. Please forgive if this seems inappropriate to you at peace talks."

"Not at all," Jim smiled, gesturing to each of his crew members as he introduced them, "This is Commander Spock, my second-in-command. This is Lieutenant Uhura, our communications officer. These are our security officers, Mr. Raymond and Mr. Sharpe. And this is Ambassador Grace, sent with us from Starfleet to assist in the talks, and to make sure everything is going well and that I'm not about to start a war."

The disapproving stare feeling was suddenly doubled. Ambassador Grace was probably giving him a look now too. He didn't really care about that. He didn't like Ambassador Grace. Apparently Governor Mihu liked Jim though, because he smiled again, and bowed slightly, which apparently meant 'expressing approval' in this culture. The small-talk lasted for a little while longer, Jim commenting on the beauty of the planet, and Mihu complimenting Earth and the Federation. Eventually, Mihu gestured regally towards the building behind him, the castle rising in intricate white spirals. The uppermost levels touched the low-lying clouds, giving it a mystical air. The architecture was beautiful by any standards, the workmanship unmatched by any human construction.

"It's beautiful," Uhura said quietly, in awe of the magnificent structure.

"Our thanks," said Mihu, voice soft. Everything about these people was delicate and light. Fragile. Jim wondered briefly how they had managed to survive to become the dominant species on this planet if they were really that delicate. "We invite you in," he said, and they began walking towards the castle, "It is our intention to have you stay with us for the duration of the talks. We hope you will accept our offer of hospitality."

"We accept your offer with great thanks," cut in Ambassador Grace, shooting Jim a nasty look when the Captain glared at him for cutting in.

Jim didn't really like him.

Mihu seemed like a friendly sort of guy though. This was shaping up to be not-too-bad. With any luck, they'd be able to get their talks sorted out as soon as possible. Yanar wanted to join the Federation. The Federation wanted Yanar. It was all going to work out perfectly. Mihu was talking again, his airy voice echoing in the massive space of the main entry hall, "We will show you your rooms now, and we will allow you time to become acquainted with them. We shall reconvene for a meal in one hour, if this suits you?"

"It does," assured Jim, before Ambassador Grace could reply, looking around at the building. Above him, thousands of beams crossed each other, white stone elegantly woven together into the room that seemed to rise forever. They were led into a hallway, which had high ceilings as well, walls a kind of smooth, grey stone. At last they paused at a door, whereupon Mihu invited Kirk and Spock to go inside.

The room itself was gorgeous, made of the same light grey stone, one entire wall framed by a window, one wall taken up by an enormous bed, draped in white and grey linens, the sheets looking like the finest silk. All the remaining furniture in the room was white; the entire area seeming beyond clean, like pure light was being poured into the space.

"This is your room," said Mihu, looking pleased at Jim's impressed expression.

"Mine?" asked Jim.

"Yours," Mihu tilted his head, "And your First's, of course."

Typical. Jim sighed, "We're sharing?"

The Governor looked surprised, "You do not usually share quarters?"

"No," Jim laughed.

"Oh," Mihu exchanged a look with his own second-in-command, "I apologize for the misunderstanding. You see, in our culture, leaders and their Firsts spend all their time together. You see, as we must work as one unit, we live as one unit. If this is not your way, we shall of course find another room for your First to stay in."

Jim caught the eye of the Ambassador, who was standing just outside his door and giving him a very stern look, "No, no, this will be fine," he said in the end. Spock wasn't saying anything, so Jim assumed that meant he was okay with it too. It wasn't like they had to sleep in the same bed. There was a very comfortable looking couch in there too.

They went on to deliver Uhura to her room, the Ambassador to his, and the security officers to their shared room, before returning to their much more lavish quarters. As soon as the door was closed, Kirk could not resist. The bed was huge, wider than he was tall. So he ran at it, launching himself headfirst across. He hit the bed and immediately sunk down, the mattress soft and covered in a fluffy duvet. "Wow!" he gasped, rolling over onto his back, "This is the most comfortable bed I've ever laid on. It's kind of like lying in a cloud."

Spock was still near the door, standing still and looking at him with an ever so slight expression of surprise, "Has anyone ever informed you that you appear to have the disposition of a child?"

"They sure have!" Jim squealed, kicking off his boots onto the floor, "Come and sit on the bed, Spock! You need to experience this for yourself!"

"No thank you," said Spock, wandering to the bookcases lining one side of the room. He trailed his fingers over the spines of the paperback books, "Apparently this culture is still primitive enough to have hard copies of reading material in common circulation."

Jim didn't sit up from where he was lying amongst his bedding, "There's something to be said for reading books printed on paper. Not sure why, but it's somehow a better experience. You should try it."

"I have read a printed book before, Captain," Spock said tersely, "I fail to see how it could be considered superior to reading the same text in an electronic database. It is the same information."

"Of course it is. But the experience isn't all in what information you gather from it. There's something wonderful about the feel of crisp paper between your fingers." Jim wriggled a little, burying himself deeper in the sheets, "You gotta learn to appreciate other things in life besides the acquisition of knowledge."

"The acquisition of knowledge is a worthy pursuit," said the Vulcan, selecting a book from the shelf and removing it gracefully with long fingers.

"That it is. Doesn't mean that you can't appreciate other things in life too. It's not all about getting something done. Sometimes it's the way you do it."

"Perhaps," Spock settled on the couch and began to read. Jim rubbed his face into the pristine sheets and, entirely against his will, fell asleep.

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End file.
